Holmes Family and Friends Christmas Surprises
by Pakmai
Summary: Sherlock has sprung a little surprise on John. It seems they've been summoned to the Holmes' family Christmas, and Sherlock wants John to come along. Hijinks ensue, and perhaps some feelings get revealed in the process. And wait - there's another brother? Post-Reichenback, Sherlock/John, Mycroft/Anthea. Reviews welcome! NOW COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! It's almost Christmas, and so after reading a few Christmas fics, I decided I wanted to do one of my own. Enjoy!**

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"Do you have a good suit?" Sherlock asked one day out of the blue. About a week before Christmas, and he had started to act a bit odd. Sure, there were no cases, but he was even more fidgety than normal.

"What?" John asked, looking up from his paper to watch his pacing flatmate. True, after Sherlock returned from the dead, there were some serious adjustments to be made and John went through a period of being almost clingy and certainly codependent, rarely letting Sherlock out of his sight. It's not like he had a job at the time anyway. But things had settled out as they so often do and they soon fell back into routines, Sherlock's name was cleared so the cases started to slowly trickle in. John helped, started blogging again and all was right with the doctor's world. And now, eight months since his return, Sherlock is acting odd.

Completely ignoring John's question, Sherlock continued to pace thoughtfully. "Oh, or even better, we should have your dress uniform dry cleaned with my good suit, that would be more appropriate and Mummy does love a man in uniform.." he says thoughtfully to himself.

At the mention of the elusive 'Mummy', who is rarely talked about from the Holmes brothers, John straightens a little. "Sherlock. Sherlock!" He tries to get the man's attention while he puts his tea and papers aside. "SHERLOCK!" He finally snaps, using a voice he hasn't used since he was yelling at those under his command.

This voice, the Captain's voice, stops Sherlock dead in his tracks, and he looks rather surprised as he lifts his head and turns toward John slowly, one hand still in his hair on the back of his head, the other hanging loosely at his side. "Yes?" he asks, sounding almost meek and sheepish.

John nods a little. Good, he has Sherlock's undivided attention now. "Now." he says as he slowly gets up, and approaches Sherlock, unconsciously falling into parade rest, hands behind his back. "Will you please tell me in complete sentences which an idiot like me can understand, what the hell you're on about?" he asks, trying to keep his voice calm and level, but ends up sounding a little irritated by the end of it.

Sherlock takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, before he looks at John sheepishly, hand falling away from his hair, and first his arms cross over his chest, then rest on his hips, then he just clasps them together in front of him. "Christmas, John. You'll need a good suit or your dress uniform perhaps, for dinner." he says as if it's obvious, and yet sounds a little tentative all the same.

Of course, this just confuses the doctor more, and he brings one hand up to pinch his nose, the other hand on his hip. "Christmas." He states, trying to figure it out. "I thought we had agreed to spend Christmas here at Baker street. Just you, me, and Mrs. Hudson, to avoid a debacle like a few years ago." He says, meaning the one party they had before Sherlock's Fall.

"We had agreed that. But it seems that Mummy is demanding my presence at her annual Christmas Eve party, into Christmas day. She is.. attempting to guilt me into it, citing my.. disappearance." Sherlock says slowly, still uncomfortable with emotions even though he has relaxed a great deal, at least in John's presence. "I'm sorry, John. But it simply cannot be avoided. She said I could bring someone, in fact she's quite keen to meet you. I had hoped that as my best friend you would accompany me." He says uncertainly, backpedaling a little from the assumption that John would come with him, to asking him in a roundabout way.

Finally, John relaxes and smiles a little, nodding. "I understand, Sherlock." he says with a little sigh, chuckling and shaking his head at his ridiculous flatmate. "Yes, alright. Of course I'll come with you. You daft git." He says affectionately. John has given up the objections that he and Sherlock aren't a couple, realizing that they really do act like a couple, and seem like one, and honestly if it keeps Sherlock in his life, John sees no reason to object. And he is unreasonably fond of Sherlock. But he's still not gay. That he asserts to himself, at least. He does not find Sherlock attractive. Even when, in the heat of summer, the bugger was stretched out on the couch in nothing but a pair of shorts - shorts! - that John didn't even know he owned, his body on display and covered in a light sheen of sweat. Nope. John did not spend longer than was polite staring at him, tracing one bead of sweat that ran down his chest. He also did not ogle him when he came out of the shower in just a towel, rubbing another towel over his hair, droplets of water from the humidity still sticking to him. No. Most definitely did not to do that. Not gay.

Sherlock relaxes and then smiles, a genuine smile, something that he rarely shows anyone. He's been a lot more relaxed and open around John since he came back from the dead, having found out during his absence how much he missed and needed John. The small army doctor really was a conductor of light, a lens through which he could focus. Somehow, he managed to ask Sherlock just the right questions at the right times, nudging the detective down a path he might not have gotten around to for days. And while tracking down and breaking up Moriarty's web, the younger man discovered just how much he had come to rely on John, at first sometimes turning to ask him a question only to realize he was alone. For the first time, he discovered that someone had dug themselves under Sherlock's skin, and into his heart, a place he thought was completely walled off from any sort of influence. So now, he opened up a little more, wanting to show John how much he had come to care about him. That is why he is very happy when the doctor agrees to come with him to the party and the Holmes' Christmas.

"Excellent. Is your dress uniform still hanging in the back of your closet? We really do need to get that cleaned. Don't worry about a gift, Mummy wouldn't expect you to bring anything, unless you have something for Mycroft already, in which case we probably should bring something for her." Sherlock is off and running again, the brief pause of his mind not stopping for long, it soon kicks into high gear.

John shakes his head a little, chuckling at the antics of his flatmate. "I'm going to ignore the fact that you invaded my privacy by going through my wardrobe, but yes it's still in there. I hope it still fits." he says thoughtfully, moving to the kitchen to start making them both cups of tea, empty the dregs out of his last cup while shaking his head slowly. "Yes, we need to get something for your mother, if for no other reason than to thank her for her hospitality. I did get something for Mycroft, and Anthea as well. Anyone else I need to buy for?" he asks curiously as he moves back to lean against the doorway between the kitchen and living room.

Sherlock hesitates for a few moments, looking over at his best friend and flatmate, pressing his lips into a thin line. "We don't need to buy anything for him, but.." He hesitates and then takes a deep breath. "There may be one other person.." he begins reluctantly.

John sighs a little, shaking his head for a moment as he looks at Sherlock, trying not to lose his temper again, but Sherlock can really be frustrating sometimes. Instead, he runs a hand through his hair. "Sherlock. Who is it?" he finally asks as he looks at the taller man.

Sherlock runs a hand through his hair as well, pacing back and forth a few paces, making two circuits before he turns to face John, head hunched down a little, hands resting on his hips. With his dress shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, feet apart slightly and black trousers on, he struck quite an image. Finally, he took a deep breath, lifting his head to look at John before speaking.

"My little brother."

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**A/N Oh, I forgot to mention, this is going to actually be two fics. One from the Sherlock/John point of view, and one from Q/Bond point of view. :) I've seen so many fics where Q is the youngest Holmes brother that I can't help myself. Also, if anyone has any suggestions as to what John could get Sherlock, or Sherlock could get John, and what they might buy Mummy, please tell me! I'm awful at thinking up those things. Reviews welcome!**


	2. Chapter 2

At first, John just stared at Sherlock for a few moments, finally just letting his chin drop to his chest for a moment. Arms crossed over his chest, he takes a slow, deep breath before he lifts his head. "You have a brother. I mean, another brother." He says as he looks at Sherlock. "So you're a middle child. Bloody hell, I can't imagine another one of you." he says as he puts a hand over his eyes.

With a small sniff, Sherlock nods. "Yes, there are only three of us." He reassures, before he shifts uneasily. "Ford is.. different." he says before he adds, "He's a genius, yes, but he doesn't have the deduction skills that Mycroft and I have. His talents have always leant more toward the mechanical. Computers, cars, gadgets, things like that." He smiles fondly for a moment. "He rewired one of Mycroft's watches once so it would shock him whenever he tried to press one of the buttons." A small chuckle comes from his cupid-bow lips despite himself, the sound deep and rich, and it made John smile.

"So, how old is this one? I mean, I know how old you are, and I think I've guessed how old Mycroft is.." John trails off, knowing that might be a delicate question. He's trying to wrap his head around a younger brother, maybe one that is a mix between Mycroft and Sherlock, but without revealing people's lives to them all the time. He really must be an idiot because his mind is not coming up with anything, it's completely blanking out.

Sherlock considers for a few moments before he speaks. "He's 26. We don't talk often. Ford left the house when he was 16. As soon as he could, moved to London. Mummy was quite upset, since Ford was always her baby." He says with a note of disgust, wrinkling his nose a little. "She doted on him. Likely she thought he wasn't as brilliant as Mycroft and I because he lacked the deductive skills." He says thoughtfully before he sighs. "But, like Mycroft before me, by the time he was a teenager I was already out of the house." He makes a frustrated sound in his throat.

John takes this all in, imagining it, and then he smiles sadly. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. It seems no one in your family had a happy childhood, huh?" Thinking about that, he turns when the kettle clicks off and goes to make them some tea, knowing by now exactly how Sherlock likes his. For a moment, he hesitates, remembering that he used to do this when Sherlock was gone, unconsciously making two cups of tea because it had become so automatic, only to realize there was no one to drink the second cup. It's a bit like his memories of Afghanistan, he muses. They come on him at the strangest of times, and almost send him into panic attacks sometimes, but he always has to push it aside. Slowly taking a deep breath to calm himself, he finishes with the tea and moves into the living room to hand his lanky flatmate. He's at least glad to see that Sherlock is gaining some of his weight back. It seems that without John there to bug him about eating, he neglected himself worse than before and lost a great deal of weight.

"Mycroft had a happy childhood." Sherlock says bitterly as he looks at John, concerned when he sees the doctor's shoulders stiffen for a moment, knowing that some memory must be overtaking him again. He used to see it once in a while at crime scenes before the Fall, it would trigger some memory. But his doctor is strong and never lets the memories control him. When the tea is brought over, he takes it gratefully, sipping it slowly. "Mycroft is Mummy's favorite of us all, I think. No matter how much she doted on Ford, it was only because Mycroft had long since left the house, and if he came home for any reason, she would abandon Ford or me in order to go to Mycroft." He mutters angrily.

The anger doesn't last for long though as a gentle hand on Sherlock's forearm startles him out of his anger. John grasped his bare forearm, the one not holding the tea, pulling it out from his body to twist it back and forth for a moment, examining it with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"What is it, John?" Sherlock asks gently as he lets himself be examined, unable to put his tea down anywhere so he just holds onto it, sipping it lightly.

"You're still too skinny." John mutters with a small frown as he looks at the pale arm before him, mostly muscle. He can still see too many bones, too many veins for his liking. A moment or two more goes by like this, and he lightly strokes his thumb back and forth against Sherlock's skin for a moment before he jerks his hand back. "Sorry." He mumbles, turning to head back to his chair.

Things like that have been happening once in a while for the past eight months since Sherlock has been back, frustrating the detective since he's thus far been unable to figure out why. Watching John retreat to his chair, he frowns for a few moments as he tries to figure it out. "Its fine." he finally says, going over to finally sit down in his chair as well. "I am sure I will be in top shape soon, under your excellent care, Doctor." he says casually as he puts his tea aside and brushes his fingers through the papers and books sitting on the end table.

A little chuckle came from the army doctor before he nods a little. "Lets hope so." He pauses, finally turning his attention back to his flatmate, and in an effort to dispel the slight awkwardness, he puts his tea aside and shuffles with his newspaper for a moment.

"So, when do we have to leave for this Christmas adventure?"

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Wow, thanks to everyone who's read so far. I was a little shocked at how well chapter 1 was received! This chapter is a little shorter than I was hoping, but I wanted to get another one out for you guys. I am already working on chapter 3, and hopefully it will be a little longer. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

A few days later and the packing had been finished, though Sherlock did most of the packing for John, something that John allowed only because it was amusing and also because even if he packed his own bag, he's fairly sure that a certain detective would just unpack it and repack it when he wasn't looking.

"Sherlock, calm down!" John says in frustration as he watches Sherlock still pacing, probably wearing a hole in the carpet. He's finished cleaning up, and putting the presents into one bag to carry with them. Sherlock has been forbidden from looking at his presents because he has a tendency to be able to guess them before he even opens them, so John has had to get quite creative when it comes to wrapping them.

Unfortunately this time John's words do nothing to calm Sherlock down, who has run his hands through his hair enough times that it's all messed up, even if the rest of his suit is impeccable. Finally, he glares around. "I need a cigarette." he mutters, moving over to the window. "Where did you put my emergency supply, John?" he demands.

With a little sigh, summoning his patience, John slowly gets up. "Bloody hell, Sherlock, you're making /me/ want a cigarette. I am not getting you your emergency pack just because you're nervous about your parents and siblings." he says as he looks over at the other man, walking over to the detective and grabbing his wrists to keep him from touching his hair again. "Alright, Sherlock. Hey. Look at me. Calm down.. deep breaths." He says as he takes deep breaths as well, hoping to get Sherlock to mimic it.

Focusing on the smaller, yet slightly intimidating man in front of him, Sherlock takes a few deep breaths with him, nodding slowly as he starts to feel less like panicking, his shoulders dropping a little as he relaxes, the tension easing out of his body. "Thank you, John. For coming with me." he says honestly as he looks down at him, not trying to free his arms from John's grasp just yet, still taking deeper breaths to keep himself calm. For a moment, he tilts his head to the side, focusing on John's deep blue eyes.

"You're welcome, Sherlock. There.. are you feeling better?" John asks as he looks back at Sherlock, smiling a little with a slightly amused look, thumbs unconsciously rubbing along the side of the taller man's wrists as he continues to hold them, not even realizing he's doing it.

Of course, the world's only consulting detective misses nothing, but he just ducks his head a little and nods slowly. "Yes, I am feeling much better." He says quietly as he watches the other man, then he clears his throat and pulls his arms away slowly, not sure why he should feel so awkward right at the moment. Luckily he's saved from any further awkwardness by the sound of a car pulling up in front. "The car is here." He announces, striding past John and putting on his coat and scarf, pulling on gloves as well.

John nods, more relieved than he cares to say that there car chooses to pull up there, since when Sherlock pulled away he realized what he had been doing. He really needs to get control of this very odd situation. He is not gay. He is not attracted to Sherlock, but he is starting to do some weird things. Or at least his body is, without his mind's permission. Shaking himself out of his reverie, he grabs his jacket, and then grabs his bags, letting Sherlock get his own and getting downstairs to pile everything in the boot of the sleek black car, keeping the bag of gifts in the car with them.

"Alright. Anything I need to know? About your family, etiquette or anything?" John asks once they're heading out of the city. "Your mother really likes odd names, doesn't she? Mycroft, Sherlock, Ford.." He muses, shaking his head for a few moments.

"Just be polite, not something that will be a problem for you." Sherlock says with a little smirk as he looks over at his flatmate. "Ford isn't his full name, it's just the more preferable nickname." He says before he smirks slightly again for a few moments. "His full name is Sherrinford." He says with a slow smile.

For a few moments, John doesn't know what to do or say, he just stares at Sherlock, finally getting his brain to kick into gear. "Sherrinford?!" he asks in shock, then he laughs a little. "Bloody hell... No wonder he goes by Ford. It's better than Sherry." he says with a little chuckle, grinning as he relaxes back in the seat, looking out the window thoughtfully.

Sherlock just watches his flatmate and friend for a few moments, humming his agreement but not finding it necessary to verbally reply. John has been different in the last month, he's been acting strange around the detective and he hasn't been able to figure out what the difference was. At first after he returned, there was awkwardness. John was a little more tactile than he was before. He would touch Sherlock's arm or hand, take his pulse just to assure himself that the detective was real. It was a small price to pay for being accepted back to Baker Street, back home. And really, it wasn't that bad. In fact, when it stopped, Sherlock found himself missing the touches sometimes, as well as still standing a little closer to John, having gotten into the habit of just generally staying closer to the broken army doctor to be a reassuring presence, and he never really stopped. Maybe that's what's odd. No, his mind rejects that idea immediately. It's been eight months, but besides the changes to their relationship since he returned, there has been something more recent, a change. He caught John staring at him a little bit more, not even seeming as if the doctor realized he was doing it. In fact, most everything appeared to be unconscious on his part. And all of this is extremely vexing. Sherlock is still not good at expressing feelings or understanding them, and he is fairly sure this has something to do with feelings.

"Mummy is very excited to meet you. Apparently Mycroft told her about you and our friendship." Sherlock says casually as he looks over at John to see how he reacts.

"Bloody Mycroft." John grumbles, coming close to a growl. "Why can't he mind his own goddamn business for once?" he asks, still pissed at Mycroft, for his part in Sherlock's Fall, and then for not telling John that Sherlock was, in fact, alive. "I'm sure he's skewed things to suit his own agenda, and only told your mother half of what is true, which means I will spend likely an entire conversation correcting your mother, of all people. Not the way to make a good first impression." he notes, finally turning to look at the detective.

The expression on the detective's face is, in a word, shocked. He didn't expect John to react with such vehemence, something he hasn't heard for a while from the doctor. Sherlock clears his throat to school his features back into their impassive mask, and then he says, "Mummy is quite intelligent, I am sure that she can tell if Mycroft is skewing the information he's providing her with. She will judge you when she sees you, I'm sure. Mycroft and I got our skills from somewhere." He says with a slight smirk. "But until then, she is quite looking forward to it. She hinted that Ford might be bringing a friend as well. Which would be a first." he says thoughtfully, before he tilts his head back and looks out the window.

John relaxes a little and he nods. "Blimey. Right. Of course. She would have to be smart. You already told me as much." he says quietly, before he sighs. "I think I'm going to try and rest a bit, didn't sleep much last night. Wake me when we get close." he says before crossing his arms and tilting his head back against the seat.

"Mmmm. Very well. Perhaps I should do the same, I need to be sharp around my family." Sherlock says thoughtfully, tilting his head back against the headrest as well.

John fell asleep easily as he often does, but Sherlock had a harder time, ending up with his head resting against the widow dozing off, but he wakes when he feels the slow down, almost stop as they have to wait for the gate, and he straightens in his seat, stretching as much as he can before he rubs his eyes and reaches over to shake John's shoulder a little. "John." He says, his normally smooth baritone voice a little rough from sleep. "John, we're here."

With a start, John looks around, getting his bearings before he nods a little as he looks at Sherlock. "Right. Thanks." he says as it registers, and he rubs his hands over his face for a few moments before he peeks out the window to see just what sort of place that they've come to, that Sherlock grew up in, having been intensely curious about it. Once he catches sight of the manor though, his jaw drops a little in shock.

"Oh bloody hell."


	4. Chapter 4

The house was immense. Sure, the tree-line drive and manicured gardens were kind of a giveaway, but looking up at the stone and brick structure kind of drove it home how rich Sherlock's family was. "Blimey." John says in shock as he runs a hand through his hair. "I.. am not going to fit in here, Sherlock. What did you drag me into?" he asks, shaking his head a little and getting out once the door is opened for him, taking his bag of presents with him. A footman type comes out and takes their luggage, though John insists on keeping his presents with him.

Sherlock smirks a little. "Honestly, John, it's far less impressive than you might think. And I am sure you will rise to the occasion." He says as he gets out of the car, looking around for a few moments with a sigh. "Come along, John." He says as he strides toward the house, stepping inside and starting to remove his gloves and scarf. "Charles." He greets with a small nod at the older butler. "This is my flatmate and friend, Dr. John Watson." He says as he motions to John, letting the butler take his jacket and outerwear.

John shakes the butler's hand with a sharp nod. "Pleasure to meet you. How long have you worked here?" he asks, removing his jacket to hand it over to the butler, who hangs everything up in the closet.

"Nice to meet you as well, Dr. Watson." Charles greets with a small smile. "I've worked here since I was in my 20's, sir. By the time I came on, young Master Sherlock here was already a young troublemaker, just a tyke. I watched all three boys grow up, but mostly Master Sherlock and Master Sherrinford." He says quietly as he looks between them.

Sherlock can't help but smirk. "Ford would be most upset if he heard you use his full name like that, Charles." He says slightly chastisingly, but seeming amused.

John can't help but grin. "I would love to hear some of those stories of Sherlock as a toddler." he says with amusement as he looks at his flatmate, picking up his bag again now that he's finished removing his jacket.

As Sherlock gives him a warning glare, Charles smiles a little. "I'm afraid you'll have to go to the source for that, Dr. Watson. And I apologize, Master Sherlock. Someone should hear his full name once in a while. Speaking of youngest Master, he arrived about an hour ago with his guest. They're retired to his room." He says quietly before he motions. "Your luggage has already been brought to your room, would you like me to show you the way, or do you remember?" He asks with amusement as he looks t Sherlock.

With a small, indignant huff, Sherlock adjusts his suit jacket. "I believe I remember the way, Charles. What room has been prepared for John?" he asks as he tugs at his cuffs briefly for a moment.

Uncertain, Charles starts to look a little awkward, glancing between the two. "Uh.. I'm sorry, Master Sherlock. We only prepared your room, we were told you and Dr. Watson would be staying together." He pauses. "And now all the other rooms are full, most of the extended family is staying over before traveling home." he says slowly.

John glances between the two, and he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he realizes that means they'll be sharing a bedroom. He just ends up laughing softly. "I should have expected that. Come on, Sherlock, lead the way." he says as he motions toward the stairs, taking it in stride a little better than Sherlock is. When he glances up at the taller detective, he looks a little startled at the absolutely furious look on his face, and he frowns, stepping over and putting his hand on his arm. "Sherlock, what's wrong?" He asks in concern.

"Nothing. This way, John." Sherlock says in a stiff tone, moving toward the stairs and taking them two at a time, leaving John to race to keep up. Moving with confidence, Sherlock moves down the hallway and finally gets to his room, opening the door and stepping inside, their luggage already there, garment bags hanging up just inside a wardrobe.

"Bloody hell, Sherlock!" John gasps as he gets into the room, closing the door and leaning against it as he catches his breath. "Some of us have trouble keeping up with those long legs of yours." he points out as he looks Sherlock over. "Mind explaining to me what that was all about?" He asks as he watches the detective starting to pace agitatedly around the room and he's just starting to think that he might have to stage another intervention to calm him down and bring his attention back to the present when the other man speaks.

"Bloody Mycroft!" Sherlock nearly explodes, running his hands through his hair, pulling it a little in his agitation. "I told him, I told Mummy, that we would need two rooms, that you were just my friend, but Mycroft must be interfering to make me, make us, uncomfortable, taking liberties in changing things around. He can't stop interfering in my life." he says angrily, putting one hand on his hip as he walks back and forth. And if John isn't imagining anything, it's a well-worn path that he's walking.

Shaking his head for a few moments, John chuckles. "Sherlock, you are walking right into his trap, you are giving Mycroft what he wants. Blimey, if I knew coming here would make you so emotional, I would be able to anticipate your little fits more." he says as he walks over, intercepting his path, this time reaching up and putting his rough, calloused hands on either side of Sherlock's smooth face. "Sherlock. I'm not angry with this. I've had to share beds before, it's not a big deal. Or I can sleep on the floor, that won't bother me either." He keeps eye contact with the younger man as he tries to tell him with expression alone, how much he didn't mind everything.

"You can't sleep on the floor. Not with your shoulder." Sherlock says thoughtfully, eyes shifting briefly to glance at John's shoulder before he looks back into his eyes, his hands coming out to rest unconsciously on John's waist to anchor himself, fingers curling around the jumper slowly as he watches his flatmate. "I've never shared a bed with anyone before, but if that's what you think would be best..." he says quietly and slowly, nearly mumbling everything which is not like him really, but at the same time he doesn't want to dislodge John's hands, since it feels nice.

A soft smile combined with a firm nod, and John strokes Sherlock's cheeks for a few moments. "There you go." he soothes, not questioning his ability to calm the detective down, continuing to watch his eyes. "Thank you for thinking about my shoulder." He notes, before he gives in to a strange longing he's developed in the last ten minutes, and he runs one hand slowly through the taller man's hair. "Better now?" he offers as he looks at him, a little surprised when Sherlock presses into the touch through his hair, much like a cat might.

"Yes.. thank you. You've had to do this a lot recently. I am not myself, coming here to this place, it is very difficult for me." Sherlock admits softly as he looks down at the shorter man, hands tightening in the fabric at John's sides for a moment before he pulls back a little, releasing him and stepping back so he can turn to look at his room, slipping out of his shoes and socks and setting them aside.

"I understand, Sherlock. And you're more than patient whenever I have my own flashbacks, so this is the least I can do for you." John says quietly as he watches the man, sitting down to remove his own boots and socks to put them aside, getting comfortable. "You need to relax before this party, Sherlock. You're wound tighter than a clock. Come on, I have an idea, and we could both use the rest." he says as he walks over to the bed, climbing onto it and piling up the pillows on one side, leaning back against it before he motions. "Come on, Sherlock." He says quietly, taking a chance and not worrying about the consequences, just worrying about relaxing his best friend and making him feel better.

Casting a wary eye at the doctor, Sherlock shifts a little, and then nods quietly, removing his suit jacket and hanging it up before he rolls up his sleeves and walks over to the bed, standing beside it, uncertain as to what John is asking him to do, exactly. Normally he can tell what John's intentions are, at least up to a point. But this time he's completely lost, so he just sits on the edge of the bed as he tries to figure it out, looking vaguely perplexed.

"Come on.. lay down, put your head in my lap. I know, it sounds odd, but I have an idea, so you'll just have to trust me." John says as he looks at the detective's wary face with some amusement of his own.

Nodding quietly, Sherlock feels the need to assert, "I trust you, John." Before he gets up onto the bed, arranging his body comfortably before he puts his head in John's lap, looking away from him, one hand resting just above the doctor's knee, next to his face.

John just nods a little, and slowly starts carding his fingers through the detective's hair, rubbing his scalp with his blunt fingertips now and then as he strokes through his hair. "Why don't you tell me about what you were like when you were a toddler, since you won't let me get the information out of your butler." He offers with a small smile. "Maybe talking about it will help you work through some of your anxiety. Bloody hell, I sound like my therapist right now.." he says with a small chuckle.

The hand in his hair does help Sherlock relax a little, finding he quite likes the sensation. "Perhaps in exchange you will tell me about your times in Afghanistan? If talking about it helps so much." He says in amusement, glancing back at him curiously, though trying not to dislodge his hand.

"After we get back home, I'll do my best, Sherlock." John hesitates for a long time before agreeing, nodding as he continues to stroke through Sherlock's hair, hand moving down and rubbing the back of his neck slowly before his hand slides back up into the other man's luxurious hair.

A slow, deep breath is taken and Sherlock nods, which just rubs his cheek against the leg of John's pants slowly, before he closes his eyes. "In a way, I suppose it was a very liberating childhood. Mummy tried to get me a few nannies, but I was too smart for them, I gave them the slip and went off on my own." He begins to talk quietly, closing his eyes. "I saw things I shouldn't have. Even then, I put things together, little details. Of course, I didn't understand most of the details, and with most children, I had little to no tact, asking things which upset people, but I didn't understand why. I always wanted to work how things worked, in nature. Science was always an interest for me. I was able to spend hours our library - I'll show it to you later - looking up different subjects and reading. Mycroft was a little too old for me to play with properly, though he did indulge me once in a while, and of course while I was fascinated with my pregnant mother and Ford when he was first born, I was kept away from him. It was thought that I would rub off on him, or somehow taint him with my particular brand of.. personality disorder. At least that's what the doctors wanted to tell me, but I rarely listened to them." he says casually, shrugging a little, shifting and rolling toward his front a little more to get comfortable. "So I wasn't allowed close to Ford. I wasn't even allowed to be a proper brother. I think that is the reason there is a rift between us. Mycroft was the golden child, he has all the deductive abilities, but he has the social graces as well, he can incorporate everything to turn it to his advantage." He says with a little sigh and a small shrug of his shoulders, closing his eyes. "I can tell you more later, John. For now, can we just rest like this?" he asks hopefully, not sure exactly what this is, once again, but he knows that it's relaxing and comfortable.

Listening attentively to everything, John frowns a little as he considers what a lonely childhood Sherlock must have had. His hand never stops going through the detective's curls, and he smiles a little, allowing himself to play with them for a few moments as he listens. "I'm so sorry, Sherlock..." he says quietly, before he nods, getting comfortable. "Yeah, we have plenty of time.. lets rest up before the party." he reassures, stroking down over his neck and shoulders slowly as he tries to soothe Sherlock, and tries not to think too much about what he's doing, or why, or the fact that he's enjoying it more than he should.

He might be in a little bit of trouble, here.

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**This did not turn out as well as I wanted it to, but I hope you all enjoy it. And thank you to my reviewers! In answer to one of the questions, writing this same story from Mycroft's point of view might be something I do after I finish this one, and the Bond/Q perspective. And I don't think that Sherlock actively dislikes Q/Ford. It's just that he never got a chance to know him, and I think that neither of the youngest Holmes boys had an easy/happy childhood. Though you'll have to read the other one to hear it from Ford/Q's point of view. ;)**

**Thank you for the reviews, they are always welcome. I hope you enjoy this chapter, I am too tired to do more with it tonight, but hopefully tomorrow I'll have another one up!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you to everyone who has read/favorited/followed this so far! Seeing all of that makes me quite happy, and is the reason I'm inspired enough to update every day! I am going to try and continue to update a chapter a day, we'll see how long that lasts. :)**

**This is a little bit of a fluff chapter, it's snowing where I live and it's made me more sort of sentimental. The next will have more dialogue/etc. I hope you all enjoy!**

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Sherlock lies still, but he does not sleep. No, not even when he feels the hand in his hair stutter and slow, and finally stop to just rest in his hair against his scalp. He can hear the slow, even breathing of the man above and behind him, and he takes comfort in it. Because it means that everything he has been through has been worth it if John is alive, and safe. He takes a slow, deep breath before he closes his eyes, but not to sleep, only to think. Entering his Mind Palace, he goes to the room that he tried to assign to John. It looks like the sitting room of 221B Baker Street. Because to him, Baker street is home, but John is home as well. That's a rather odd sentiment that he takes out and examines for a few moments, trying to figure out why he feels that way.

He finally decides that it's John's constant presence there, no matter what happens, is what makes him feel like home. They fight, John leaves, but he always comes back. He'll be there, sitting in his chair, sipping his tea and playing on his laptop, slow tapping of the keys heard as he writes in his blog. John really is a horrible typist. Sherlock can't help but smile faintly as he goes through his memories, pacing through his mental version of Baker Street and the different tidbits that are in his mental version to remind him of their adventures.

Mentally shaking his head, Sherlock turns his attention back to the matter at hand. Lying with his head in John's lap while the other man essentially plays with his hair is not a thing typical friends or flatmates would do. Standing in the middle of the room, he steeples his hands in front of him and thinks, examining all of his and John's interactions, testing them against what he knows of friendship in others and what he has observed of other forms of relationships.

Shocked at what he discovers, Sherlock opens his physical eyes and stares straight ahead, taking a sharp breath in surprise. That certainly was unexpected. He did not expect to come to that particular conclusion. However, it is only a hypothesis. Now, he must observe more closely, and test his hypothesis with some experiments. The party tonight is thankfully going to provide the perfect stage to test his experiments.

Slowly, Sherlock rolls onto his back, not removing his head from his doctor's lap, so he can look up at his face, reaching up to lightly touch his jaw for a few moments before he drops his hands and rests them over his stomach, just examining the older man above him. He can't help but smile a little, looking forward to his experiments. But right now, he knows that if John sleeps like that, his shoulder and back are going to hurt, so reluctantly, he sits up, trying not to wake John, before he tries to figure out how to get him to lay down. He decides not to be subtle about it, and kneels on the bed by the doctor's feet, grasping his calves and pulling him down the bed slowly.

John snorts and shifts a little. "Sh'lock.. what're you doin?" He asks sleepily as he gets pulled down the bed, staring a little when Sherlock is suddenly looming over him. Sleepy minds have less protection against thoughts going through them, and he blushes lightly as he looks at the detective who is suddenly perched above him.

"Your back and shoulder would have hurt, and you would have been uncomfortable all night if I had let you remain sitting upright." The younger man says simply as he looks at John with a soft smile. "I was merely trying to get you into a more comfortable position." he says as he adjusts the pillow so it sits comfortably behind John's head, moving the others out of the way. "Go back to sleep, John. I'll make sure we have enough time for food, tea, a tour, and to get ready before the party." He says quietly, hesitating before he brushes the backs of his fingers against John's cheek, before he moves away swiftly. "I plan on getting a little sleep myself before the party, I need to be at the top of my game, facing my family tonight." he says as he starts to set the alarm on the clock. "If you don't mind me joining you, there is plenty of room on the bed." He says as he motions to the queen bed.

John is a little surprised at the touch, but he's still groggy so he dismisses it, instead getting comfortable and shaking his head. "Don't mind." He says, wiggling a bit before he removes his belt and then squirms out of his jumper, dropping them over the side of the bed before he snuggles down into the duvet and his pillow. "Can see you. Young. In this room. Wish I had known you then. To make it better." He says sleepily, eyes closing before he can see the surprised, but amused expression on Sherlock's face. "Gonna have to.. make sure that it's good. Now. Make up for back then." He mutters before he drifts off into sleep again.

Sherlock just stares at John for a few moments, before he smiles softly and shakes his head. "John. My John. Of course you would think that way." he says quietly to the older man, chuckling a little and shaking his head. He debates removing his shirt but ultimately decides against it as he slips onto the bed, facing John, and forces himself to catch a few hours of sleep at least. Most likely John will not remember his words when he wakes up, but Sherlock will always remember them, and the way that it brought a fluttering to his stomach, caused his heart to stutter a little, and warmth to spread through him. While he may not dwell on it, he will always remember it. And with that thought in his mind, Sherlock drifts into the arms of Morbeus.

-o0o-

John was the first to wake up, before the alarm, and he smiles a little as he looks at the sleeping detective next to him. They remained on their separate sides of the bed which is good, but still, John takes a moment to admire him. It isn't often that the detective sleeps, and even less time does John ever get to see him like that. He looks younger, more vulnerable like this, and it twinges at his heart a little. When he was running his hands through Sherlock's hair earlier, it was natural, comfortable, and comforting. He could imagine doing the same thing at Baker Street, watching tellie with Sherlock's head in his lap, playing with those ridiculously soft curls.

Right. There's another one of those thoughts again. The ones he's not supposed to be having. The ones he's trying to ignore. But that's not working so well right now. Not when he's still sleepy and has new knowledge of the detective's young life, not when he's in the same bed as Sherlock.

Finally, he decides he should probably get up, and stretches slowly, smiling faintly before he starts to get up. Not sure exactly when Sherlock set the alarm for, he decides to take the opportunity to use the facilities. When he comes back out, it's to a light knock on the door, and he rubs his eyes as he moves over to it and opens it a bit. "Oh. Charles." He says in surprise as he looks at the butler. "Is everything alright?" he asks, aware that he's in just a white t-shirt, jeans, and his hair is sticking up all over the place, he at least tries to smooth it down self-consciously with one hand.

The butler looks rather amused, then he nods. "Everything is fine, sir." He reassures, then he adds, "I thought you might like something to tide you over until dinner, so I took the liberty of bringing up a tea tray. If I may say, Master Sherlock is looking very healthy nowadays. Your doing, I'm sure, Doctor." He notes with a soft smile, before he pulls a cart from where it was waiting beside the door. "I'm sure Sherlock is well aware, but the festivities will begin at 5." he says with a nod to the doctor.

John chuckles a little. "Yes, thank you.. he's still a bit too thin for my peace of mind, but I keep trying." he says as he takes the cart into the room. "Thank you, Charles. We'll be on time, don't worry about that." he says with a nod of his head, before he closes the door and rolls the cart toward the foot of the bed, preparing cups of tea for both him and Sherlock before he goes to sit on the edge of the bed next to the sleeping man. He really hates to wake him up. Sighing a little, he slowly reaches out his hand and rests it on the lanky man's bicep, giving it a little shake and a squeeze. "Sherlock. Wake up. Charles brought tea."

A small snort is given as Sherlock wakes up with a slight start, and he rolls onto his back, looking blearily up at John. "Hm?" He asks, just about the time his alarm starts going off, and he reaches over to turn it off. "Oh. Tea. Yes." he says as he forces himself to sit up, rubbing his hands over his face and accepting the cup from John when it's offered.

John decides not to move, just watching Sherlock quietly as they both sip their cups of tea. Nothing is said, nothing needs to be said at the moment between the two of them. This, like so many other times, is a comfortable, shared silence between the two. And if either man is thinking about what transpired in the past few hours, neither of them speaks of it yet. This is a golden hour when nothing seems odd, nothing out of place. They are just Sherlock and John, friends, flatmates, colleagues.

Don't worry, their bickering will be back, Sherlock still owes John a tour of the house, and Sherlock still has his experiments to perform this evening. But for this moment, nothing disturbs their peace.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter came out a bit longer than I thought it would, and went in a whole different direction. It's Mycroft's fault! Thank you to everyone who has favorited/followed! You folks make me want to add more, and that turns into long chapters like this! Next chapter will probably be the first to directly cross over with my other fic, the James Bond/Q side of this story. The characters are getting ready to fry my brain I think. :D**

**As before, please review, they make me happy!**

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They eat, and John pulls on a jumper again over his t-shirt, they both replace their belts and Sherlock changes his shirt into something less rumpled. Getting changed in front of each other isn't strange for either man. Sherlock walks around in a towel or a sheet half the time, and John was in the Army, for him dressing in front of someone is hardly strange.

And then the tour commences. As expected, there are the kitchens, there are drawing rooms, studies and bedrooms galore, none of which are overly interesting to John, since they all seem the same. But then Sherlock starts to get to the more interesting things. "And this is the library of course, quite extensive. My mother is a voracious reader, she enjoys scientific journals as much as novels." The detective explains as he steps into the room.

The library itself was massive, with what appeared to be two levels, and ladders here and there to get between them, but also to get to the various shelves. Every inch was covered with books, some upright and across the shelves, but there were books on top of books, all very neat and not yet spilling out onto the floor, but it looked as if that was a short step away.

"Bloody hell, Sherlock.. This is.. this is.. the biggest private library I have ever seen.. No wonder you get bored with your books at the flat.." John says quietly as he moves further into the room, shaking his head a little as he steps past the detective and scans the shelves, finally approaching one to figure out what kind of books are where, what kind of system of organization they have.

As always, Sherlock seems to read his mind, and he steps forward, deciding to do one small experiment, so he moves up very close to john, speaking in a quiet tone, letting his smooth baritone do all the work. "They are organized by topic, then alphabetically by author's last name." He chuckles a little. "It can be a little difficult if you've never been through before, since nothing is really labeled."

Sherlock enjoys watching the way that John subtly tenses for a moment when he senses the detective behind him, and then relaxes when he starts talking, even unconsciously swaying back toward him just a little. Slowly, John stretches out a hand and touches the spines of some of the books in front of him.

Whether it's because it's a library or because the younger man is so close behind him, John isn't sure, but he ends up speaking quietly. "This is amazing, Sherlock. I could spend weeks in here. No wonder you delete unimportant things, you could have learned so much from reading these books. I'm sure half of it is absolutely useless." Glancing over his shoulders, blue eyes meet mercurial blue-green, the army doctor smiling in the way that makes his eyes crinkle around the edges a little.

"Precisely." Sherlock breathes as he looks down at John, clasping his hands firmly behind his back, smiling a little as he looks down at his friend, finding himself leaning forward just slightly toward him.

"Ah. Decided to give Dr. Watson the tour, Sherlock?" As always, the tall man with the auburn hair and 3-piece suit chose the worst time to interrupt. Mycroft steps into the room slowly with a book in hand, walking over to slide it expertly back where it belongs.

Bristling at the arrival of his brother, Sherlock straightens and turns to send his brother a glare as he steps away from John. "Yes. I thought it an appropriate way for us to spend our time. Seeing as there is nothing else for me to accomplish here." He takes another step away from John, subtly putting himself between the army doctor and his brother.

For his part, the army doctor just rolls his eyes a little, shaking his head and letting the eldest brothers get their bickering over with before the party. "Good evening to you, too, Mycroft." he notes in a slightly annoyed tone. he noticed that Sherlock was leaning toward him and he's not sure what it was going to mean but he did not want to be interrupted just then.

Mycroft tsks a little. "Little brother, why must you treat being here like such a chore? You would break Mummy's heart if she heard you talking like that." He points out in his condescending way as he looks over at his brother, picking another book off the shelf before he takes a few steps closer. "Do you know if Sherrinford has arrived?" he asks casually.

"Mummy knows how I feel about being here. Which is why she used my.. disappearance.. to get me to show up." Sherlock says flatly as he looks at Mycroft. "You know he hates being called by his full name, Mycroft. But yes, if you would deign to lower yourself to asking one of the staff, Charles could have told you that Ford arrived almost an hour before we did. No doubt he is in his room with the person he brought with him." He says casually as he looks over at Mycroft, narrowing his eyes at his brother. "You need to cease your meddling, Mycroft." he snaps as he remembers the reason he's angry at his brother this time.

Since Sherlock seems to be getting a little emotional, John turns and he moves to stand beside his detective, touching his arm lightly as a kind of reassurance for them both before he shifts into parade rest and levels Mycroft with a steady stare. "I will not tolerate any more attempts of yours to meddle, Mycroft. Not on Christmas Eve, and not on Christmas. The least you could do is have a little Christmas spirit and consider your brother's happiness for once. Both of them. I'm sure you're going to try your intimidation routine on whoever your youngest brother has brought. You may want to hold off on that until after Christmas, don't you think? Your mother will probably have enough to say about myself and the other guest of the Holmes Brothers." He says as he continues to watch Mycroft steadily.

"Interesting. But perhaps you are right, Dr. Watson. I apologize if any of my actions have seemed to you to have been.. extreme. I worry about my brothers." He says quietly as he looks between the two, then he smiles. "Loyal to a fault, and extremely protective of my brother. However, I did not understand how very forgiving you were, when we first met." Mycroft says as he looks at the two for a few moments.

This time it's Sherlock who is looking over at John with a concerned expression. He knows that even casual mentions of the Fall, as it's become termed, can upset his flatmate. He watches his back stiffen and shoulders straighten as he pulls himself into full military stance.

"Sherlock explained his reasons, Mycroft." John is very angry now, it shows in his tone, one that he's only used once before when he found out how much Mycroft betrayed his brother to Moriarty. "I understand them, I accept them, even though I didn't, and don't like it, but we've moved past it. I don't understand why you feel the need to poke at old wounds just to see if they'll still bleed. Don't think I've forgotten the part you played in that." He snaps, then he takes a slow, deep breath, turning his head stiffly toward Sherlock, though he doesn't meet his eyes. "I'm going to go for a walk in the back yard. I need some air." He says firmly, that being pretty much a code phrase between the two by now that means John is pissed and needs to walk it off. He does a precise about-face, and then marches out of the library, remembering seeing a back door, he makes his way there and out into the cool afternoon air.

Once John is gone, Sherlock looks sharply at his brother. "Do not bring that up again in front of John, and do not bring it up in front of Mummy." He says in a fierce tone, taking a few steps closer to Mycroft, his fury obvious in his normally impassive face. "If you ruin Christmas for John or I, or Ford, I will make your life a living hell, and I am sure that Ford can think of a few ways to cause problems as well." He says in a cold tone, glaring at Mycroft before he says, "I don't see how Anthea puts up with you. But you're both so cold, maybe you deserve each other." That is a blow below the belt, and Sherlock knows it, but he's too angry right now to censor himself. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go make sure my flatmate is alright." He doesn't even give Mycroft a chance to reply, he just turns and slams open the nearest door to sweep out of it. He's never wanted to hit his eldest brother so much in his life. John would be proud of him for restraining himself.

When he finally gets to the door, he realizes that neither of them had their jackets, and it's raining outside. He doesn't know how long it's been raining, but he knows that in his state, John wouldn't care. He probably would welcome the cold rain to try and cool himself down. The cold rain is also not good for his bad shoulder, the detective knows. Moving swiftly through the house, Sherlock grabs the nearest large umbrella he sees and goes into the backyard with it. "John!" He calls, looking around. Too late, he realizes that neither of them were even wearing shoes. And the ground is very icy and cold. It takes longer than it should to find John underneath a tree, soaked through. Long enough for Sherlock's feet to be mostly numb from the cold. It's obvious that the doctor is just as cold, but too stubborn to go in.

"John.." Sherlock says in relief as he walks over, holding the umbrella over both of them. "I'm sorry about Mycroft. He won't bother us again." he says quietly, before he shakes his head. "Come inside, John. It's freezing out here and you're soaked through. Your shoulder will be aching later if we don't get you into a hot shower. As a doctor, you should know how easily hypothermia can set in." Alright, so maybe Sherlock is being a little dramatic, but he really is very worried.

John's jaw tightens as he grits his teeth together to keep them from chattering. Looking up at Sherlock's worried eyes, he nods stiffly before he starts walking back toward the house. He doesn't even object when the lanky bastard put his arm around John to guide him into the house, up the back stairs and back to their room quickly.

The umbrella is abandoned just inside the door, and as soon as they get into their room, Sherlock goes and turns the shower on as hot as it can go, returning with a few fluffy towels. "Come on, you need to get out of those clothes."

John doesn't even object when Sherlock, in his concern, starts helping John undress. He knows that Sherlock has never seen him without a shirt completely before, and he should be a little self-conscious about that, especially considering the scar on his shoulder, but he's too cold and apparently Sherlock is too worried to take not of it, because before he knows it, he's bare-chested, and being rubbed down with a fluffy, warm towel that is pulled tight around his shoulders while deft, violinist's fingers go to work on his belt, removing it from his pants. Needless to say the detective did not think about any sexual connotations to this and really, with Sherlock worried and John freezing it's not as if there were any thoughts of that nature going around. Once John is down to his pants, Sherlock pushes him into the bathroom, stealing the towel back from him. "I trust you can get your pants off and into the shower?" he asks with an arch of an eyebrow and a slightly amused look.

The time in the army was paying off for him more and more today, because John was not shy about his body. Not usually. He was used to being nude around other men, being in his pants around them. The only thing that has changed is the scar from his shoulder makes him slightly more self-conscious about that area. But he's still in good shape, running around London after criminals has ensured that. So with minimal hesitation, John nods and removes his pants, giving Sherlock a good view of his arse before he steps into the shower, shutting the stall door, his teeth starting to chatter despite all attempts to the contrary.

This concerns Sherlock when he hears that, and he curses lightly before he does the only thing he can think of. Body heat is more effective than anything else, so he strips down quickly and steps into the shower behind John, putting his arms around the other man and pressing close. He feels the doctor stiffen in his arms and he sighs. "Shhh, John. Need to keep you warm. Body heat is more effective." He says as he ducks his head a little to keep the spray from getting into his eyes. "We never should have come here." His voice remains as soft as it can be and still heard above the spray of the water, before he rests his face against John's shoulder, his lips pressing into the cool skin lightly.

John is still shivering a little, but he leans back into the warmth of the Sherlock's body, finding himself wanting to turn around and move close, to bury his face against that alabaster skin. But it's going to be awkward enough with them front-to-back, much less the other way around, with them fully nude. So John stays where he is, taking a few deep breaths before he finally speaks. "Not.. your fault. Any of it. I'm glad we came. You're always so.. private. Closed off, especially about your past. It's.. nice. To see this glimpse when you.. can see everything about me at a glance." he manages to get out, tilting his head back against Sherlock's shoulder, his eyes closed, his hands over Sherlock's arms around him.

The small smile that crosses Sherlock's face is felt against John's skin and he nods quietly. "Alright.. Come on, I think we'd best get you out before you get pruney." He says quietly, reaching to shut off the water before he gets out and grabs a towel, quickly drying himself before he helps John out to towel him dry as well. He takes care with his doctor, a little angry that this is their first nude encounter as it were, that's not how it's supposed to be. He's careful drying around the scar, feeling around the back of his shoulder for a moment before he nods. "It doesn't feel too tense or knotted.." he reassures as he finishes drying John off.

Even though he's feeling much warmer, John really should object to being treated by a child, but it's nice to have Sherlock's entire attention on him, so he only blushes a little bit when Sherlock kneels down to dry his legs, putting him level with a part of his anatomy that makes it so that some rather inappropriate images come to mind. He remains standing there as Sherlock goes out and comes back in a pair of boxers, handing a pair to John, which he puts on, frustrated to find his hands are still shaking a little.

"Come on, then." Sherlock finally says and takes John's hand, leading him out into the bedroom, where the bed has been turned down, nudging the other man onto the bed. "It's ok if you fall asleep, I've re-set the alarm to give us time to properly shower and get cleaned up before the party begins." he says as he slides into bed behind his flatmate.

This time John does indulge himself since they are adequately covered, and he turns so that he's face-to-face with Sherlock, sliding his arms around the skinny man before pressing close, burying his face into his shoulder and neck to take in the spicy scent of him while also leeching his warmth.

Surprised for a moment, Sherlock doesn't move, then he slowly folds his arms around John, their legs tangling together in an attempt to be comfortable but also to keep John as close as possible for warmth. Deciding to indulge himself a little, he lifts one hand and runs it through the damp sandy blonde hair that is going more and more gray. He places a soft kiss on the top of John's head and strokes his long-fingered hand through his hair a few more times before sliding his hand slowly down John's back to hold him.

"This isn't so bad." John tries to joke, though it falls a little flat, and his little laugh isn't humorous, more of a huff of breath. "Wonder if I could get you to sleep more this way." he mumbles quietly, the smile heard in his voice as well as felt against the detective's skin.

Sherlock can't help himself, despite the situation, he laughs and tightens his arms around John for a few moments. "You're right, this is rather nice. Perhaps I would not have as much trouble sleeping if someone were there to share my bed. We should do some experiments when we get home, to find out." He offers casually, overjoyed at the thought of John voluntarily sharing a bed with him.

John just chuckles a little, rubbing his slightly stubbly cheek against Sherlock's skin. "Mmm.. Now tha's a s'periment I could get behind." he mumbles, words a little slurred in his sleepiness as his body starts to relax.

For the second time, the detective cannot contain his mirth and he chuckles softly, kissing the top of John's head again.

"You are rather talkative when you're sleepy. Now shut up and go to sleep."


	7. Chapter 7

While John is sleeping, Sherlock remains awake, just making sure that his friend, the object of his newly discovered affections, was comfortable and warm. There were no nightmares thankfully, and after two hours, the detective started to feel the other man waking up, gently starting to stroke his back slowly, enjoying the feel of his bare skin under his sensitive hands.

Shifting as he starts to wake up, John takes a deep breath, nuzzling into the shoulder and neck near him, taking in the slightly smoky, spicy scent, then smiling a little. His mental filters aren't in place yet, so he allows his calloused fingers to slide down Sherlock's spine. "Good morning, again. I am taking far too many naps today." He says quietly, and boldly places a soft kiss on Sherlock's shoulder before he starts to pull away from the warm body reluctantly.

After untangling himself from Sherlock, John rolls onto his back and stretches a little. "Mmm. Thank you, Sherlock, for taking care of me earlier. I'm a bloody doctor, I should know not to stand outside in the cold rain.." he says quietly, stretching one arm above his head, the other resting on his stomach as he stares at the ceiling. He is strangely comfortable, lying in bed with his flatmate, none of them in anything other than their pants. And that thought, and the entire oddness of his day so far just makes John start to laugh, lowering his arm from above his head to put his hand over his mouth as he laughs.

Sherlock arches an eyebrow, looking a little amused. "You're welcome, but are you quite alright, John?" He asks, skeptical that his doctor is in his right mind, though he likes to hear him laugh.

"I'm fine.." John finally manages to calm his laugh. "It's just this completely ridiculous day. We get here, to a bloody mansion which is owned by your family. Find out I'll be sharing a room and bed with my best friend an flatmate. Alright. Not too bad. So we have a rather nice cuddle, and then you're all caring and we have a nap. Ok. Then there's tea, and food, and the tour where we meet Mycroft. There's a fight, I storm out, try to give myself hypothermia, end up naked in the shower after my best mate rescues me, and then there's half-naked cuddling and another nap. That's our day so far." He says with a smirk as he looks over at Sherlock, chuckling a little. "We lead ridiculous lives, Sherlock." he says with a little grin.

Sherlock listens, and he starts chuckling near the end. "I see what you mean." he says quietly. "Likely it's going to be even more ridiculous before the night is over." he says quietly, then he watches John. "We should shower properly and get ready soon." he says after he glances at the clock, then he looks back at John for a moment. "Can I.. perform an experiment, John? On you?" he asks slowly, then adds, "It will be quick, and painless." he reassures.

For a few moments, John watches Sherlock, trying to figure out whether he should agree or not, and then he smiles a little, "Sure, why not?" he says with a smirk as he looks over at his friend, not even thinking about the fact that he's bare-chested and his bullet scar is very visible, something he would normally be very self-conscious about.

After the doctor agrees, Sherlock grins a little, and he shifts until he's braced on his hands, on either side of John, his upper body perched over the older man's. After watching him for a few moments, he gives in and slowly leans down to tentatively place a light kiss on John's lips, letting it linger for a moment, not really expecting much of a response, just hoping not to be pushed away.

To say that John is shocked is sort of an understatement. He was still fairly sure that Sherlock was not a sexual person, and now he's being kissed by that very same man. For a brief second, he does nothing, but when he feels Sherlock starting to pull away because of his lack of response, he slips one hand up into that silky hair to hold him in place as he indulges himself and returns the kiss. He's not sure where Sherlock is as far as experience, but he has quite a bit of it, between university and his time in the army. One night stands are more common to him than he cares to think about. So his kissing skill is fairly good he'd like to think. Still, the small moan that comes from Sherlock when the doctor starts to kiss him back surprises John, and it only makes him deepen the kiss a little, fingers massaging the back of Sherlock's head.

Sherlock groans softly as he deepens the kiss a little, surprised that John even responded, much less with any enthusiasm. Though he wants the kiss to continue for a long time, he finally breaks it, licking his lips as he looks down at John, only allowed to move his head a little ways away with John's hand still in his hair.

"Was that a successful experiment?" John asks quietly as he looks at Sherlock for a few moments, stroking the back of his head slowly for a few moments before he slides his hand down to the detective's neck and shoulder, before it slides away and back to resting on his own chest.

Sherlock shivers a little, before he nods quietly. "Yes.. very successful.." he says before he pushes himself up and moves away slowly. "We should start getting ready for the party.." he says slowly, then he smirks. "I doubt you'll wish to take another joint shower." he says, though the idea appeals to him, he's trying not to think about it anymore, or to think about what he didn't allow himself to before. John's body against his, the shower raining down on them. He shivers, and walks over to the wardrobe to take his suit out and hang it on the door.

John chuckles a little as he gets up, stretching. "Probably better to wait until we get back to Baker Street to explore something like that.. or maybe just until tomorrow morning." John says quietly, moving up behind the detective to put his hands on the other man's waist gently, kissing the back of his shoulder before resting his forehead between his shoulder blades. "I'll go first if you don't mind. My hair takes less time." he says as his hand sneaks up to run through the curls again lightly and he chuckles before he turns and grabs his undershirt and toiletry kit before he heads into the bathroom.

A little surprised at John's sudden affection, Sherlock's head bends forward a little when he feels the hand in his hair, then shivers at the sudden loss of the body heat behind him. He doesn't say anything though, just waits until the bathroom door shuts, then he quickly sits down, his body trembling with the nearly overwhelming emotions. He had kissed John. His experiments progressed rather faster than planned. More importantly, John kissed him back, and was a little more affectionate afterwards. Not to mention he joked about experimenting with sharing a shower. That thought makes his mouth go dry, and he licks his lips, taking a few deep breaths to get himself under control. Of course, he doesn't know how long this will last, or if this is a golden time, and everything will change once they go back to Baker Street. He manages to compose himself before John comes out, picking out his own underclothes before he slips in after him, smiling briefly as he watches the man's spiky hair for a moment.

After a shower and a shave, during which he feels rather good about everything that's happened. When he thinks back on it, him being attracted to Sherlock is not really that big of a shock, and like so many things when it comes to the world's only consulting detective, he just shrugs it off and goes with the flow. Sherlock is the exception to so many rules. The army doctor admires Sherlock as he walks into the bathroom and he chuckles a little, idly wondering if there will be any mistletoe hanging around tonight and if he can possibly maneuver Sherlock under some. Chuckling at his own thoughts, he shakes his head, feeling lighter than he has in months as he pulls out his dress uniform, looking at it for a few moments, combing his hair down before he starts to dress.

By the time Sherlock is finished shaving, drying his hair John is dressed, looking at himself in the mirror and feeling slightly uncomfortable. At first, Sherlock doesn't even see John, too distracted by his own thoughts, and he wanders blindly over to the wardrobe where he puts on his trousers and is putting on his shirt before he spots John. "Bloody hell.." he breathes in surprise as he stares at the soldier before him, his hands pausing at his collar where he was about to flip it down, before he completes the action and moves over toward John. "I.. I've never seen you in uniform before.." he says as he moves to stand behind the older man, looking at him in the mirror.

The soldier glances back at Sherlock through the mirror, still fidgeting with his clothes. "I haven't worn this for a while.. I'm glad that it still fits. I think it's a bit more snug around the chest than it used to be though." he says before he drops his hands to his side, unconsciously straightening his spine and shoulders as he looks at Sherlock.

While still looking him over, Sherlock starts buttoning his shirt, his eyes glued to his small soldier. "I think it fits perfectly. You are going to make quite the impression tonight." he says as he watches John. When he's finished buttoning his shirt, he put his hands on the older man's waist lightly. "I thought you were attractive before, but you are absolutely mouthwatering." he murmurs as he ducks his head, kissing John's neck lightly. He pauses to give John one more heated look before he turns to go back to the wardrobe, tucking his shirt in and pulling out a small box with cufflinks in it that he puts in with ease, walking back to the mirror as he does up his tie.

John move to the side and watches him with a little smile. "I'm glad I've gotten your attention." he says with amusement, before he goes and retrieves Sherlock's jacket, holding it up and helping him slide into it, smoothing down the shoulders and back slowly, but it's really more of an excuse just to touch him. He smiles a little as he moves around in front of Sherlock. "It really isn't fair how good you look in a suit, Sherlock." He says with a little smirk as he looks the other man over, reaching up to straighten his tie a little.

Sherlock blushes just lightly and he smiles. "I'm glad you approve." he says with a bit of amusement, before he sits down and slips on his shoes, completing his outfit. "Shall we?" he asks as he looks at John.

The army doctor steps over to Sherlock, pulling him down for a lingering kiss, resisting running his hands through that hair, instead just rubbing the back of his neck. When he releases the other man, he straightens his clothes and then nods firmly.

"I'm ready. Do your worst, Holmes."

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**FINALLY! Next chapter - party! It's going to get a little complicated for me after this, so I'm not sure how it's going to effect my posting times. I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far.**

**Reviews/Comments welcome!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Party! Yay! Ok, so this chapter is much shorter than I thought it would be, and I'm sorry. I had some trouble trying to figure out what Mummy would be like. There is more to come, don't worry. I hope you all still like it! Reviews/Comments welcome!**

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The walk to the ballroom is a little nerve-wracking for John since he doesn't really think he looks as good in his dress uniform as Sherlock seems to think he does. It kind of reminds him of how much he needs a haircut. Still, he follows the ever-elegant detective into the ballroom, admiring the way the man's almost-tuxedo fits him. "You know, I didn't think you even owned a pair of cufflinks." He muses, reaching out to brush his fingers over where one is peeking out from his sleeve.

Distractedly, Sherlock glances down at the wrist John had touched, and he brings his hand up, looking at the cufflinks. "I don't like them. I don't usually wear shirts that require cufflinks, except for very fancy or special occasions." he says as he lowers his arms again. "Plus, they were a present from Mummy. Since I am forced to attend this year, I thought it would be a good gesture." he says with a little shrug of his shoulders, glancing over at John covertly to see what his thoughts might be. John is his most interesting when he doesn't think anyone is looking.

John considers this, and then he smiles a little. "Yes, unless she is as seemingly emotionless as you and Mycroft, I believe she will appreciate it. Sentiment." He says with a little smirk as he looks at his flatmate, shaking his head for a few moments, before he nods to Sherlock. "Lets go." He says before he walks inside with the taller man. They immediately make an impression, catching eyes and turning heads as John moves slowly with Sherlock toward the bar area, getting a brandy for himself just to take the edge off. "Come on, lets move around at least." He says to Sherlock.

Outwardly, neither of them show any signs of what may or may not happened in Sherlock's room this afternoon, even if it might be occupying both of their thoughts as they look around the room. "Well this is awkward. It seems like no one is overly fond of talking to you." John points out with a little smirk up at his friend.

Sherlock just sniffs a little. "There is a reason that I don't usually come to these sorts of functions." he points out quietly, shaking his head slowly as he observes his doctor.

The peace doesn't last forever though, a woman finally sweeping over to them, thin, elegant, with sharp eyes similar to Sherlock's, high cheekbones and wavy hair that probably used to be dark but now is a silvery gray that just makes her look more distinguished, her hair currently held back from her face but left loose down her back t just past her shoulders. "Sherlock!" She cries as she walks over to him, pulling him down slightly for a hug before kissing each of his cheeks. "Oh, look at you.. You look so good.." She says quietly, keeping her hands on his cheeks for a few moments. "You need a bit of a haircut though, don't you?" She asks with a fond smile.

Sherlock looks a little uncomfortable but he returns the hug, and kisses each of the woman's cheeks in return. "Mummy." He greets, and then smiles a little. "Thank you. I.. haven't had time." He says as he touches his hair slowly. "Mummy, this is my best friend and flatmate, Dr. John Watson, a former Captain as you can see." He says as he introduces John almost proudly, clasping his hands behind his back afterward.

John looks at the woman with some surprise, glancing her over and then smiling. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Holmes. I can see where Sherlock gets his good looks from." he says with a little bit of a grin at the woman, offering his hand. When she takes it, he gives it a firm squeeze, then lifts it and kisses her knuckles gently before releasing her hand.

Mummy looks John over and she laughs a little. "Well aren't you a charming man. My, my, Sherlock, isn't he handsome! A soldier and a doctor, what a dichotomy. And such a gentleman. Please, call me Victoria, Dr. Watson." She says with a little smile. "Perhaps sometime tonight I can steal you from my son's side. I know he's not an easy man to live with, but I hear you've been managing quite well, and that you've helped my son become a better man. I wanted to thank you for that, and I'm glad I've finally gotten the opportunity." She says as she leans over and kisses John's cheek gently, wiping away a bit of lipstick she accidentally left smeared there.

Sherlock straightens a little more, looking quite pleased with himself. "I quite agree. John is fascinating, and very handsome." He says with a smirk at his friend. "Though I would prefer you not drag him off to tell him embarrassing stories." he says with a little pout.

Resisting the urge to kiss that pout right off Sherlock's face, which is a new an interesting urge for him, John chuckles a little, watching Sherlock for a moment before he smiles. "Well, that was the wrong thing to say. Now I'm interested. Are there many embarrassing stories of a young Sherlock?" he asks with a slight grin.

"Oh, not as many as I would like. I'm afraid I'm not a very good mother to my boys. Or at least, I wasn't when they were younger." Victoria says with a little sigh as she looks at her middle son. "Such handsome men they turned out to be." She says as she pats Sherlock's cheek gently. Some little commotion catches her eye across the room and she sighs. "Oh dear. It seems that Mycroft is antagonizing Sherrinford. I don't know why those two can't get along better. Even you and Mycroft get along better, Sherlock." She says with a small sigh. "I suppose I'll see you two at dinner, if not before, but I need to go make sure this doesn't descend to blows or cyber warfare." She says as she looks at the two. "It was a pleasure to meet you, John. Please, continue taking care of my Sherlock for me." She says as she rests her hand on John's arm, giving it a little squeeze before she does the same to Sherlock with a fond smile, then starts to head toward the arguing brothers. She doesn't get there in time before Ford and James Bond leave Mycroft standing there and disappear into the crowd.

Sherlock looks over and he smirks a little. "Hmm. Ford's date is interesting." He says thoughtfully.

Looking amused, John follows Sherlock's gaze but can't spot the youngest Holmes brother. "Date?" He asks, surprised, then he adds, "Ford is gay?" He sounds curious, guessing a little.

Giving John a curious look, Sherlock nods a little. "Yes. He always has been. As far as I can recall, I've never known him to be interested in women. He's only had one serious relationship. It did not end well, and let's just say that it was one of the few times that Mycroft and I agreed on anything." he says with a slightly dark look for a moment, before he turns his eyes to John. "Mummy seems to approve of you." he says, relaxing a little.

Chuckling a little, John smiles as he looks at Sherlock. "I'm glad to hear it, though to be honest I'm more interested in these embarrassing stories." he says playfully.

Sherlock smirks a little as he looks at John, looking him over for a few moments before he smiles a little again and leans down toward John, moving so his face is close to John's, but aligned so that their cheeks brush lightly.

"I will tell you any stories you want to know tonight, in bed, if you promise not to leave me alone tonight."


	9. Chapter 9

**Longer chapter, but there's Q and Bond! Hope you all enjoy, and remember, reviews/comments are welcome!**

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John laughs a little as he looks at his friend and he nods quietly. "I promise you, I won't abandon you to your relatives." he says as he sips his scotch and keeps them away from most of the others who gladly avoid Sherlock. "Alright, alright.. I'll bite. Why is Ford's date so interesting?" he asks, having lost track of where they went in the crowd though he's sure that Sherlock could say exactly where they went.

Looking rather pleased and a little smug, Sherlock looks down at his blogger and he nods. "Interesting because he has a military bearing, obviously a great deal of training. You can see it just by the way he moves. Constantly looking for threats and exits. I would say he's in a very dangerous job, puts his life in danger almost every day. But he's protective of Ford. Not just because of his affection for him, there's something more. More like a bodyguard, he wants to make sure Ford is safe. That stems from work rather than personal feelings." he says as he looks at John. "You do that sometimes when we're around Anderson or Donovan." His tone turns thoughtful as he continues to examine his friend. "He's also comfortable. He's been in this sort of situation before, in a party like this. He's used to faking social situations. Oh, look.. Mummy has found them." he says as he indicates where he can see her approach the two.

"That's because you always piss off Anderson and Donovan and I have to make sure they don't hurt you." John says as he looks at the detective, shaking his head a little. He then looks over to where the two are, frowning a little. "It doesn't look like your mother is quite so pleased to see them as she was you." He notes thoughtfully as he watches the body language of the two men.

"She was nicer to me because she thought I was dead for two years. I imagine that might have changed her feelings toward me and what I do for a living." Sherlock explains as he looks down at John a little again, before he sighs, fidgeting a little, starting to get a little stir crazy now that he can't do more interesting like try and figure John out some more.

Thankfully he doesn't have to wait for long, because after Q and Bond are finished talking to Mummy, they start to head in their direction. "Here they come." Sherlock mutters to John, watching him before turning in his attention and his body toward the two.

"Sherlock." Q says as he approaches the two, his eyes focused on Sherlock. The detective takes note that the two men were holding hands when they approached but that Q let go when they get close enough.

Reaching out, Sherlock takes Q's offered hand and gives it a firm shake, knowing that they are not the type to hug or do other emotional things. "Ford." He says neutrally as he flickers his gaze over his brother, taking in how he is from his hair, the fit of his suit, the condition of his hands, the fact that his brother doesn't even flinch when he knows what Sherlock is doing.

"I see you've gotten the interrogation with Mummy over with." Sherlock says, having noticed the way the conversation was going between the two of them. "Your argument with Mycroft obviously didn't put her in a forgiving mood toward you, I see." He nearly spits their eldest brother's name, but otherwise remains just sort of detached in his tone as normal, aware that John was watching the interaction with interest beside him.

Q just nods, holding his brother's gaze steadily. "Yes, she's enough to send me into a bloody drinking binge. Which I almost would have if it weren't for James." he says, before he looks at the double-oh at his side. "Sherlock, this is James Bond, a friend from work. James, this is my brother Sherlock." He introduces, and Sherlock gives a mental sigh at the idiotic social conventions but he narrowly keeps from rolling his eyes.

Turning his attention toward Q's friend, Sherlock looks him over, reaching out and shaking his hand firmly. "Nice to meet you." He says politely, gaining a surprised look from the otherwise silent doctor at his side. "Convention says that I should threaten your life, if you deign it necessary to hurt Ford." He says in an almost bored tone, again barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes. Despite what skill he would have in hiding a body from his experience at crime scenes and his meticulous nature, he has the feeling that he wouldn't be able to defeat a man with James' obvious combat skill. "But I can see that you wouldn't purposely do that, despite the fact that you put your life in danger on a regular basis. He cares a great deal for you, otherwise he never would have considered letting you come to meet the family. You think that you didn't give him a choice, but then if you truly believe that you don't know my brother that well afterall." There is a slightly disappointed tone to his voice when he stops speaking, looking the older man over again. It's barely there, but he notices the slight surprise that flickers over James' face, and the twitch in his hand as if he wants to reach out for Q and protect him.

James returns the shake and he smirks slightly as he looks at Sherlock. "Well, you already know that I have no intentions of hurting your brother. I had to nearly beg him to even give me a chance. I wouldn't waste such an opportunity. I'm well aware of what a catch he is." he says with a smirk and a wink in Q's direction, before he looks at John curiously.

John has been watching this interaction curiously, having never seen Sherlock with any of his family except for Mycroft, so each of these new interactions is interesting to him. Despite what he might have first thought, he can tell that Sherlock cares a great deal about Q, probably the first of the family that John has met that Sherlock seems to actually care for.

Sherlock seems to catch the look that James gives John and he looks at his blogger for the first time during this conversation. "Ah. Yes, this is Dr. John Watson, my flatmate and best friend." he says proudly as he motions to him, just shy of showing him off. "John, this is my youngest brother Ford, and of course as you obviously just heard, his friend James Bond." he says with some sarcasm in his voice, once again disliking social conventions which in this case say he should re-introduce Bond even though everyone clearly just heard who the man was. his attention turns back to James after a moment, watching his reactions and body language.

Undeterred by Sherlock's attitude, John even finds it a little bit amusing. Afterall, he knows that for Sherlock, this is downright charming. He's actually a little surprised that the detective has managed to be this nice so far, he hasn't really insulted anyone all evening. For a moment he wonders if that might have something to do with his influence, but he doubts it. John smirks and finally reaches out to shake James' hand. "Nice to meet you." he says with a nod of his head. "We should really grab a pint sometime, if your Holmes brother is anything like mine, you'll need someone to vent to." He says with a sense of amusement as he looks at the other man. He's being friendly and trying to find some common ground.

James chuckles a little. "Quite the contrary, I think I aggravate Ford more than he bothers me. I find him quite adorable actually. Of course, it's not as if we live together, and honestly we don't know each other quite as well as I'd like." He says before he looks John over rather obviously, eyes settling on his ribbons for a moment, recognition flickering over his face as he understands what each of them stands for. "I would take you up on it anyway, Dr. Watson, but I'm afraid I travel quite a bit for work, and I imagine I'll prefer spending my down time with Ford." He speaks quietly with a slow little grin, tone having clearly suggestive undertones that makes John blush lightly at the things that are implied they might get up to.

Q's eyes go wide for a moment and Sherlock notices an uncomfortable shifting as he first looks at James in what could be considered a scolding look, and then turns his attention back to Sherlock. "How many is it this time, Sherlock?"

"Twelve. Less than last time." Sherlock says casually as he looks around the room. "Oh. Thirteen." he corrects himself as he sees something he didn't before in one of their relatives. It's an easy thing to slip into, a question he's been asked many times, but not since they were young. He and Ford may never have been as close as brothers might traditionally be, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't care about him.

John and James exchange a glance, the former just shrugging, and the doctor decides to ask a question, "What are you two on about, or is this a secret Holmes thing that us normal people can't know about?" he asks, crossing his arms over his chest in exasperation, planting his legs apart a little, preparing for the possible confrontation, or being told that he's an idiot for not seeing something that he should have before. That, and he's a little more intimidating like that, at least in his dress uniform.

What John actually gets is the opposite of a confrontation. He gets a sly little smile as Sherlock looks at him out of the corner of his eye, turning slowly to look at him, smug yet playful. A smile that usually means trouble but at the moment it just makes John's heart beat faster and makes his breath catch in his throat for a moment. It's really not fair that a smile like that can do so much to him.

"Ford and I used to play a game. He didn't gain Mycroft's and I's deductive skills, or at least he had no desire to develop the skills." Sherlock finally explains with a small smirk at his brother, then he turns his look back to John. "During family functions, he used to ask me how many of our relatives were cheating on their spouses or significant others. We never went into details, I would merely relate a number." He says, looking at Q with an odd sort of affection. "It's something we've not been able to do for a long time." And it's something that he's glad to share with John, and happy that he can still do with Q no matter what has happened to them in the last few years.

"And yet you still counted." Q points out, a fleeting smirk gracing his features before he glances sideways at James, looking slightly amused as he watches the older man, finally turning his attention to the two in front of him.

John looks a little surprised, and he shakes his head a little, pinching the bridge of his nose, but he chuckles a little. Only in the Holmes family would that be considered any sort of game. But he can just imagine a young Sherlock using his deductive abilities, things that normally would piss people off but that he saw so easily, for a game in a way to connect to his younger brother. Or even a young boy impressed by his older brother's abilities, asking him to show off for him. No wonder Sherlock enjoyed showing off so much.

"Blimey. Trust you to have the strangest way of showing brotherly affection, Sherlock." John notes, his tone full of affection for the detective, shaking his head for a few moments as he smirks up at the taller man. "You are ridiculous." He adds, laughing a little and relaxing his stance, his hands going down loosely to his side as he smiles comfortably at his friend. Glancing back at Q and James, he notices one of James' arms moving as he apparently either put his arm around Q or at least reached behind him, smiling before he addresses the two as a couple, since that's obviously what they were, or rapidly heading toward. "So, you two me through work, then?" He asks curiously as he turns his body more fully toward them instead of toward Sherlock.

James nods a little and he smiles. "Yes.. I'd been working there for a while but I had recently been on a.. vacation." he says after a few moments, looking at Q. "Believe it or not, I have to take my orders from Ford most a lot of the time, he provides me with equipment I need." He says with a little smirk. "It started with just talking over the phone, his posh voice in my ear and I admit that I have a rather bad habit of flirting." He says with a small smirk. "Surprisingly, he flirted back at me, as long as we weren't in the same room."

Q just snorts a little. "As if you listen to anything I say." He shoots back at James, making John snicker a little since he can completely relate to that. "Half the bloody time you do the exact opposite of what I tell you to do." He points out with a note of frustration in his tone, giving James a little glare. And that just heightens John's amusement as he looks between the two, before he gives a significant glance to Sherlock, sort of a 'remind you of someone?' type of look.

Sherlock catches the glance from John and sniffs indignantly before he glances between Q and Bond for a few moments, trying to figure out things from the vague details and what he knows of Ford's new job. And then he realizes exactly what is going on, and where Ford must be working, but also why Bond carries himself the way he does, and why his name sounds so familiar. He ran across people who knew that name more than once when he was tracking down Moriarty's web. "I see." He nearly mumbles to himself, then he chuckles and smirks a little, eyes lighting up, feeling particularly proud of himself too.

"Oh, I know that look. Don't do it, Sherlock. Not on Christmas Eve, and not to your brother." John says in a firm tone, putting his hand on the other man's arm to try and get him to focus. The detective has been doing so well and John doesn't want him to ruin the night by saying something that he shouldn't or revealing something about someone.

Q sighs, apparently knowing that look as well., shaking his head a little. "Please restrain yourself, Sherlock. I do need to keep some secrets." He tries to reason with his brother, swaying toward James a little, which Sherlock notices. It's a slight bit of comfort that Q seems to take from James' presence, Sherlock notes, filing that away for further study.

Sherlock looks over at John briefly after he looks away from Q and Bond, brows drawing together as he considers both their words. And as much as he might want to show off and usually doesn't care what people think, this night has been really good. And he hopes that after dinner and such John will still let him kiss him, so for once he considers the feelings of others and just nods slowly. "I understand." He says quietly, his eyes focused on John's for a few long moments, his body unconsciously turning slightly toward the doctor as he follows his previous train of thought, eyes flickering down to his lips as he thinks about kissing him in the bedroom and how after that John had come up to him voluntarily and even seemed to welcome the kissing.

After that, the atmosphere turns a little awkward since Sherlock is still staring at John and now the doctor has noticed and is staring back at him in confusion. James looks over at Q for a few moment before clearing his throat. "Come on.. why don't we leave these two to the discussion they desperately want to have. It was a pleasure to meet you both." He says as he slips his arm a little further around Q's waist and tugs him away.

John nods a little to the others. "You too." He says distractedly before he looks at Sherlock, looking at his intense gaze and licking his lips a little. "What is it, Sherlock?" he asks in concern, touching his arm again gently for a moment to try and snap him back to himself.

Glancing down at John's lips again, Sherlock is mesmerized for a moment as he sees the doctor's tongue come out to wet his lips, and then his eyes move back to John's as he speaks. "Come along, John." He says in firm tone, grabbing John's hand to make sure he does come with him, before leading him down the wall and through a door into a study, glad that it's empty, he pulls him a bit further inside before turning to look at him.

"Sherlock! What the bloody hell are you doing?" John demands, a little annoyed now as he gets dragged about like always, stopping a few feet into the room to glance around briefly before he looks up at his flatmate. He finds out what's going on soon though as cool, pale hands come up to hold his head in place as Sherlock's head dips down and he gives John a firm, intense kiss, nipping at his lips experimentally.

To say that John is surprised is an understatement, but he's certainly not displeased with the situation, responding to the kiss with equal intensity as he slides his hands under Sherlock's coat to clutch at his waist. Finally, they have to break apart to breathe, and John gasps a little as he pulls back, taking a few deep breaths and staring at Sherlock. "Blimey. You are far too good at that." He murmurs as he stares at the other man. "Want to tell me what that was about? Not that I mind..."

Sherlock pauses as he looks at John, letting his hands drop to his shoulders. "I.. I don't know. I didn't want you to be angry with me because I thought perhaps then you wouldn't kiss me again tonight, and then I started thinking about how much I want to kiss you again." The detective explains, giving a little shrug as he continues to watch the doctor in front of him, looking him over slowly for a few more moments.

Hearing that makes John chuckle a little, moving one hand up to place it along Sherlock's cheek for a few moments. "Oh, Sherlock. It's good to know how very human you are sometimes." He says quietly with another smile. "That little smile you gave me earlier, when you were going to show off how clever you were was devastating to me." He says honestly, shaking his head again before he smiles. "You are going to be the death of me, Sherlock." he says quietly with a small groan and a little shake of his head. "It would have been easier if I hadn't ever noticed how bloody good looking you are." he says, thumb stroking over his cheek softly.

"Do you regret your realizations?" Sherlock asks, knowing that he can't go back to how things were before this, his mind has latched onto it and now he wants to know everything about his flatmate. From how he'll look first thing in the morning, to how he tastes, and what every inch of him looks like.

"You ridiculous man. No, I don't regret it. I'm just saying it would have been easier." John reassures with amusement as he finally lowers his hand and shakes his head again.

Sherlock is relieved even if he doesn't show it, and he nods quietly, smoothing his hands out over John's shoulders, making sure his uniform isn't ruffled at all from their brief encounter before he nods approvingly.

"Easier, but certainly not as fascinating at this new development."


	10. Chapter 10

John smirks a little as he looks up at the man in front of him, "How long do you think we can hide out here until we have to go back to the party?" He asks, clasping his hands behind his back to keep from grabbing a hold of Sherlock for another kiss, not wanting to rumple their clothes and make it seem like they did something they did not. John wouldn't mind more intimacy later maybe but right now he'd be just as happy to snog the detective senseless.

Sherlock smirks a little as he looks at John. "I imagine for a while, I've seen Mycroft, Mummy and Ford. No one else in there cares about whether I'm there or not, you saw the way they avoided me." He points out as he looks at John, looking him over slowly. "Did you have something in mind, doctor?" he asks playfully as he looks him over.

John smirks a little, lifting a hand and slipping it around Sherlock's neck again, bringing the detective closer to him. "Well.. for one, I wouldn't mind having a proper snog." he murmurs, his face close to the other man's. "We need to talk about all of this later. We haven't really talked since.." he trails off, swallowing as he rubs the back of Sherlock's neck gently. "Since you came back." He says quietly as he looks into the other man's eyes. "I mean.. We talked about where you were, and that. And I know you're not comfortable talking about feelings, or your past. Blimey, neither am I. But if we're ever going to talk, tonight, on Christmas Eve, at the end of an already strange day.. don't you think that this is the right time?" He asks, speaking quietly as he places a light kiss on those perfect cupid-bow lips, keeping it chaste and brief.

Sherlock returns the soft kiss, and then he nods quietly. "We will talk later, John." he promises as he looks at his doctor. Being bent over like this is slightly awkward but he doesn't want to move, enjoying the hand on the back of his neck, and the feel of the doctor's strong, calloused fingers. He knows firsthand just how capable they are, since they've patched him up more than a few times. "After the party, we'll talk. I'll answer any of your questions. I hope that you will answer some of my questions as well?" he asks quietly as he looks at the blonde man, sliding his own hand up to rest against John's neck, feeling the pulse under his hand, thumb brushing back and forth along his jaw slowly, cataloging the slight rasp of Jon's stubble against his sensitive fingers.

Nodding a little for a few moments, John smiles at the taller man. "You beautiful man.. of course I'll answer your questions. Anything. But later." He says with a little grin, before he tugs the other man down , kissing him deeply, but still keeping the kiss rather chaste, no tongues or anything, just firm lips moving against those of his flatmate's, enjoying the feeling and closeness, taking in the scent of him.

When the kiss finally breaks, Sherlock sighs softly, giving him one soft peck on the lips before he straightens. "We should get back." he says reluctantly, "Dinner will be soon." he says softly, licking his lips and tugging his jacket down to straighten it. But before they return to the ballroom, he looks at John with concern. "How is your shoulder?" he asks, knowing that they had some rather awkward sleeping conditions, and then there was the freezing cold rain outside and all else.

"And people had the nerve to call you a sociopath.." John says quietly, rolling his shoulders a little. "It's a little stiff. It will probably hurt in the morning. I'll have to be careful how I sleep, but luckily your bed is fairly supportive and comfortable." Rolling his shoulder once more, he shifts to re-settle his uniform. "Thank you for thinking of it, Sherlock." He says with a little smile at the man before he turns and slips back into the ballroom.

As always, Sherlock was right and it's not long before they're called in for dinner, the seating seeming to be assigned which means that the Holmes boys and their guests are at the head of the table with Mummy. Mycroft and Sherlock sitting across from each other, then Anthea and John across from them, Q and Bond sitting down one side next to John, and then some great aunt or something across from the two of them.

The food is brought out, several courses of it actually, starting with a soup and ending with a dessert. It's filled with anything you could want from a Christmas dinner, turkey, dressing, cranberry sauce, potatoes, vegetables, etc. Dessert is served with either tea or coffee to try and ward off the sleepiness brought on by the turkey and the previous activities. The dinner is tense, conversation polite but not meaningful, discussing politics, weather, things without any depth. Only Mycroft seems to be able to converse comfortably with his mother or anyone else at the table, comfortable in these situations it seems.

Finally they start to filter out toward the parlor, John grabbing onto Sherlock's hand to make sure that they don't lose each other in the crowd since John did promise not to leave Sherlock alone. "And how long do we have to linger in here? Because that dinner was good, but.. uncomfortable." He says to the taller man, just wanting to go back to their room now.

Sherlock considers, then he smirks. "I believe we fulfilled the quota for social niceties. Everyone expects me to sneak off as soon as possible anyway." He says, before he grabs John's hand, slipping to the back of the room. he manages to exchange a look with his brother, quirking a small smile at him before he glances at John, pulling him out the closest door they were casually moving over toward. He grins triumphantly. "And that is that, until tomorrow morning at least." He says happily before he starts to lead the army doctor back upstairs to their room, sighing a little when he can finally lean back against the door, locking it for good measure.

John relaxes once they're alone, sitting on the edge of the bed to start removing his boots. "It's about bloody time, I need to get out of this.." he says with a shake of his head, standing to undo the various buttons and clasps, at least doing it the justice of hanging it up properly, until he's down to just his undershirt and boxers, hiding the uniform again before he runs a hand through his hair, finding his pajama pants to pull them on.

While he's doing that and distracted, Sherlock strips off his own suit, admiring John for a few moments as he gets his own pajama pants on, though without a shirt. "Is your shoulder still stiff?" he asks as he looks at him, moving a little closer to look at his covered shoulder.

Smiling a little and leaning on Sherlock briefly when he's close enough, John nods a little. "A little. It'll be fine." He reassures, pulling Sherlock down for a soft kiss, trailing his hand down his neck and over his shoulder, his fingers stroking along Sherlock's prominent collarbone.

Goosebumps rising on his skin, Sherlock looks down at John, licking his lips a little. "I might be able to help." He offers, reaching down to slide his hands under John's t-shirt, "Take this off and lay on your stomach on the bed." he says softly in his ear, kissing just in front of it and down his neck a little as his hands slide up John's sides.

"Sherlock.. that is incredibly distracting.." John says softly, sliding one hand through those girls, though he tilts his chin up, enjoying the attentions which are causing a slow burn to start in his stomach.

"Then get this bloody thing off." Sherlock mutters, finally pulling back to help him get off the shirt, pointing to the bed. "Lay down. On your front." he orders, before he goes to start digging around in his drawers, crying out wordlessly in triumph as he pulls out some candles and a box of matches, setting them up around the bed and lighting them slowly, before he turns off the lights, creating a warm glow.

"I don't want to know what experiment you used those for.." John says quietly, but he smirk as he goes over to the bed, trusting Sherlock in this as with so many other things, and he obediently lays down on his stomach on the bed, stretching a little and hands tucking under the pillow under his head.

Sherlock nods a little, quite satisfied with the environment. Slowly, he crawls onto the bed, leaning over and kissing John's shoulder, then the back of his neck. "How sensitive is your shoulder, John? I don't want to hurt you." he says before he moves to straddle his thighs, reaching out to gently run his hands down John's back.

There's silence for a few moments as John enjoys the touch of those hands and he also thinks about his question. "The skin itself isn't very sensitive, in fact the middle of it is mostly numb. Just don't press too hard on it. It's still sensitive sometimes to pressure." He explains quietly, wondering where Sherlock is going with all of this.

Making a small sound in the back of his throat, Sherlock nods a little. "Alright." The detective says softly, his voice low and soft, attempting to be soothing as he moves his hands down to John's waist and starts a gentle massage, using the dexterity and strength of his fingers to his advantage, slowly working his way up John's back, which is a little tense he notices.

"Bloody hell, Sherlock..." John groans, closing his eyes as he tries not to move, though all he wants to do is arch into the touch. "That feels amazing.. Where did you learn massage techniques?" Another small sound escapes his throat, part moan when another knot is released in his back.

"It was for a case. I needed to pose as an employee of a massage parlor. The owner, a masseuse, taught me." Sherlock hesitates for a few moments, since he knows what John's next question will be. "I didn't delete it because I thought it might come in handy again. And now I'm glad that I didn't. I was always told I was quite good. Apparently my violin skills strengthened my hands." he says with a smile as his hands move up John's back, using all of his considerable skills to help John relax, enjoying the sounds that are coming from the other man's throat. When he gets to his shoulder blades he applies a little more pressure around his spin, moving up to work on his good shoulder, then both hands move to carefully massage around the scar, wincing a little as he hears a few hisses and even a whimper come from the man below him. "I'm sorry, John.. just try and relax.." He says quietly, leaning over and giving the back of his head a soft kiss, then his shoulder lightly.

When he feels that he has done the best that he can, Sherlock just rubs his hands soothingly up and down John's back. "John?" he asks, running one hand up the back of his head and through his hair. "Are you alright?" he asks in concern, suddenly afraid that maybe he did something wrong.

Taking a few deep breaths, John nods a little. "Yes.. I'm fine, Sherlock." But his voice betrays him, wavering a little, sounding low and rough, full of emotion.

"What's wrong?" Sherlock asks immediately, a little scared because as much as has happened today, he knows that he's still not good with emotions, he's not good on picking up when he's done something wrong. Finally, he lifts himself up and rolls John over, settling back down still straddling his thighs. What he sees on the older man's face tears at his heart, and he internally starts panicking. There are tears in John's eyes and he looks like he's in pain. Rapidly, the consulting detective starts to go over everything he did, comparing it to everything he was taught and what experience he's had with massage. "John.. John, what did I do? You know I'm not good with these things, tell me what I did wrong, how do I fix this?" He asks, working himself up into a frenzied state as he puts his hand against the side of John's face.

Although he allows Sherlock to turn him over, John doesn't reach out to the younger man, feeling very shell-shocked still as he stares up at his flatmate, blinking rapidly to clear the moisture from his eyes. It takes a few moments for him to register the panic on the face of the man above him, but when he does, he puts his hands on the bare waist of his friend, sliding his hands up his back and pulling him steadily down toward him. "Shhh, Sherlock. You didn't do anything wrong.. none at all. God. It felt so good.. no one's taken care of me like that for a long time, Sherlock. No one's ever touched my scar like that. I didn't realize what emotions it might bring up.." He says as he finally pulls Sherlock down so that their chests are brushing together. "Girlfriends I've had, usually avoided looking at or touching it. Or they just seemed disgusted by it." he admits, just touching Sherlock to convince himself that the other man is here, that it's not all been some strange dream because that is the sort of day it's been.

The explanation relaxes Sherlock and he sighs, allowing himself to be pulled down before he nods a little, squirming down and stretching his legs out a little, resting his head on John's good shoulder for a few moments. "I understand, John.. I'm here. Your scar, is amazing." he says before he shuffles over a little to his other shoulder, starting to kiss around the scar gently. "This.. this amazing thing.. you survived. You could have been killed. If you had died, or if you had never been shot.. We would never have met. You would not have needed me to fix your psychosomatic limp." he says quietly, placing gentle kisses around his shoulder, avoiding the center of the scar tissue, wanting John to feel the loving kisses he places there.

That is almost John's undoing, and he tilts his head back a little to hide the tears, the anguish on his face. A tear or two escapes the corners of his eyes, and he takes a deep breath as he slides one hand into Sherlock's hair, grasping it firmly. "Sherlock.." He whispers, his voice rough with emotion as he holds the consulting detective, not having realized he could ever be so tender, or so loving. For almost four years he's underestimated him. Sociopath, indeed. Not able to stand it any longer, he shifts and flips them over so he has the younger man pinned beneath him. Staring at him for a few moments, he finally dips his head to kiss him, slow and gentle, trying to relate all of his emotions, even though he isn't entirely sure how he himself feels.

Eager to erase all the painful memories from the forefront of John's mind, Sherlock responds to the kiss as he snakes his long arms around John's body, letting the soldier above him lead, wanting to give him whatever he needs to be happy again, to go back to the John that jokes with him and teases him, the one that wanted to ask him a million questions. Despite everything, he can tell that John is much more relaxed even if he's emotionally shaken. Eventually, the need to breathe is strong, and he pulls his head back from John's. "I thought.. you wanted to talk." he says with a mischievous little smile, drawing meaningless patterns on the older man's back.

A small, surprised laugh comes from John at that, and he grins a little. "You beautiful, insane man. You're quite right, I wanted to talk. You are so distracting, I'm half tempted to forget that I ever said that and go back to snogging you." he sighs a little. "But we really do need to talk." He says quietly, giving the man below him one last soft, lingering kiss before he rolls again, laughing when Sherlock doesn't let go of him and so they roll together again. "Who would have thought that Sherlock Holmes would be this cuddly."

Sherlock snorts a little as he rolls with John, then shifts to the side so he's not directly on top of his doctor, snuggling down against his good side, nestling his head onto the doctor's shoulder. "I thought you might find it comforting." he says innocently. "And if anyone asks, I will deny it." he says firmly, smirking a little. "You have questions." He states, amused by the fact that he used that phrase before when they were heading to their first crime scene together.

The reference isn't lost on John, who just laughs a little as he runs his fingertips up and down Sherlock's spine. Once again he's caught with trying to figure out what question to ask first, like he did in the cab that first time. Finally, he decides to bite the bullet and go for the difficult question first.

"What is this, Sherlock? Where is this going?"

* * *

**I am so sorry to anyone who wanted more out of the party. I was going to write more with it, but I just couldn't figure out anything to write, and the whole massage scene got stuck in my head at work today. (Yes, think about my fic at work). Sooo... here is that little piece of fluff. I always imagine that Sherlock has a whole lot of hidden skills he's had to learn for undercover work on cases, either before or after he met John, or even when he was tracking down Moriarty's web.**

**For those of you that read both sides of this story, I am so sorry I'm not going to get Friends become Family updated tonight. It's been a long day and I'm pretty exhausted. It took me all evening to get this one out. I will get a new chapter up tomorrow, promise!**

**Thank you to everyone who left such lovely reviews, they are very, very inspiring! Reviews/comments are welcome, I always like to know what you guys think of my story.**


	11. Chapter 11

There's silence for a few minutes, which is probably a good thing because that means Sherlock's answer will be genuine and not a flippant, automatic response. "You are more experienced in emotions like this than I am, John. It's hardly fair of you to ask that question of me." He says slowly as he considers it, then takes a deep breath. "I believe this is called a relationship, John. As to where it is going, I hope that we will continue to be friends, partners, colleagues, and eventually add lovers to that list." he says honestly, turning his head slowly to kiss his doctor's skin. "Though as I said, you have more experience in that area than I do." He says slowly, considering everything for a few moments, before he tilt his head up to look into the older man's eyes. "I don't ever want you to leave me, John." He says honestly, taking a deep breath. "Is that an acceptable answer?" he asks uncertainly.

Rather gobsmacked at his flatmate's honest and very emotional answer, John can only mutely nod by the end of it. "Bloody hell, Sherlock. Yes. Yes, that is a very acceptable answer. I can't believe all that just came out of your mouth." He says in shock, lifting his hand to rest it against Sherlock's cheek, thumb stroking over his lower lip for a moment. "Where did my flatmate go? World's only consulting detective. Smart mouthed pain in the arse?" He asks playfully, doing what every good Englishman does when he's slightly uncomfortable with emotions, and that is making a joke.

"It's Christmas, John. I've been reliably informed that you should be nicer to those you care about during this time of year." Sherlock points out with a small sniff, nipping at John's thumb before he settles his head back down, turning it to bite gently at John's chest in retaliation for the 'pain in the arse' comment. "Smart-mouthed indeed.." he mumbles against his doctor's skin, kissing the bite mark gently to soothe it.

A small gap come from John at the bite, and he arches his back just a little, hand coming down to stroke through Sherlock's hair. "Prat." he mumbles affectionately before he takes a deep breath. "What are the rules?" he asks finally as he looks at Sherlock. "I know you. I know, a tiny bit, how your brilliant mind works. I know that it won't always be like this. We'll still fight, save cases, you'll stay up all night, play the violin, not eat, I'll work, buy the milk and yell at you about your experiments. But this..." he tightens his hand in Sherlock's hair for a moment. "What are the rules for this? I don't want to drive you away by being overly affectionate.." he admits softly as he watches the curls that is all he can see of Sherlock's head.

Sherlock makes a small humming sound in his throat and he nods quietly. "You're right, John. You really are more observant since I've come back. Or perhaps I merely appreciate it better now." he muses thoughtful, then considers. "When there's no case, I won't mind the touching and kissing. Don't disturb me during experiments.. that is mostly for both of our safety. And during cases, I would prefer to be left alone. I would prefer to initiate whatever affection I might be able to handle." He says quietly, closing his eyes for a few moments. "Would that be acceptable?" he asks tentatively, knowing that things will be difficult at first as they find their comfort zone with eachother, and there will probably be a rough patch when they get back to Baker Street.

"That's it? I thought it might be something similar to that at the very least. I thought you might have more.. strict rules." John says thoughtfully before he smiles, kissing the top of Sherlock's head, "Yes, those are very acceptable. Just don't shut me out, Sherlock. If I push you too far, if there's something you don't like, you need to tell me. Yell, scream, whatever, just don't run off and hide or give me the silent treatment." He says as he tilts his head to the side a little to try and see Sherlock's face.

"Mmmm. I understand, John. I will do my best." He reassures, lifting his head and placing a soft kiss against his doctor's lips. He pauses, not wanting to talk about this anymore, so he smirks a little. "What did you think of Ford?" he asks, tilting his head a little to place another soft bite on John's chest, very careful not to actually hurt him.

John still gasps a little at the bite, tugging sharply on Sherlock's hair. "Sherlock! Stop that." he says firmly, before he sighs, trying to ignore the fact that he actually likes it a little. But neither of them is ready for that step and so John needs Sherlock to not do that. "Ford.. seems nice. I think he was more stressed out about this whole party than you were. Maybe we should invite him over to Baker Street sometime. You two seem to get along fairly well." he says quietly, then he snorts. "And it's not like Mycroft doesn't drop by uninvited. At least we could offer the other Holmes brother some hospitality." He says with a small smirk, kissing the top of Sherlock's head again.

"Hmm. I could invite him but he might not come." Sherlock says with a small shrug, before he smirks a little. "You don't really want me to stop, John." he says quietly, distracted by his newest experiment now, and he shifts spots slightly before he experimentally bites John's chest again, right over his heart, a little firmer.

John grunts softly, his body twitching as he tries not to give Sherlock the encouraging response he might be hoping to get, though goose bumps betray him and raise on his skin slightly, his heart skipping up a notch. "Maybe not." He agrees, knowing that it's useless to argue with Sherlock over something this obvious. "But neither of us is ready to take this any further, Sherlock, so while that is surprisingly lovely, I need you to stop." he says as he looks down at his flatmate, sliding a hand down his back slowly, then back up to card through his hair.

Feeling a little petulant, Sherlock kisses the spot that he bit, then slides back up a little, nipping at John's skin in a few more place until the pull on his hair is painful. "Mmmph. Fine. I'll stop." he mutters in a slightly petulant tone. "I look forward to being able to explore that line of inquiry later." He murmurs quietly with a small chuckle. Finally, he settles down. "Talk. You wanted to talk." He orders, trying to distract himself.

"Well, since I don't want to talk about sexual histories, I won't ask you about yours." John says with a little smirk. "You told me Ford was gay, and Mycroft appears to be straight.. It doesn't really matter, but I have to admit, I'm curious. Were all your loves male, or female, or both?" He asks as he shift to get comfortable before looking up at the ceiling.

"Both." Sherlock says easily, shrugging a little. "I prefer men. Less emotionally unstable. Less emotional outbursts." he says as he starts to draw little designs on John's chest lightly. "Have you always been bisexual, John? You had me fully convinced that you were straight, you showed no desire toward men at all." he says in a slightly confused tone.

John can't help but laugh at that, and he nods quietly as he pulls Sherlock close against him. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me." he says as he considers Sherlock's normal sexual preferences. "Hmm. Yes, I'd always thought of myself as straight." he says before he smirks a little. "Do you remember the Irene Adler case, her phone, what you told me about the password on it?" He asks curiously as he toys with his flatmate's hair.

"Of course I remember." Sherlock says with a little sniff, insulted at the insinuation that he might not remember something about one of their former cases.

John can't help but grin, pulling Sherlock up slowly to give him a long, lingering kiss, before he lets the detective settle back in against his chest.

"That's me, Sherlock. Other men don't do anything for me. I'm Sherlocked."

* * *

**I'm way too amused with having been able to use that. A shorter chapter this time, I didn't want to leave any of you guys hanging for a new chapter. 44 followers at last check, wow! I hope you all are enjoying reading this and it's not getting too repetitive/fluffy. I don't think it is, but I'm biased. :)**

**Enjoy! If you have any suggestions/comments, please leave a review, I love reading them!**


	12. Chapter 12

A small, deep chuckle comes from Sherlock as he hears that, closing his eyes for a few moments. "That's a great deal more flattering coming from a man like you, John, than it ever was from a woman like Irene Adler." He says with a small smile, listening to John's heartbeat for a few moments.

"I was jealous of her, you know. I didn't realize it at the time, but I can recognize it now." John admits, fingers still drawing meaningless designs on Sherlock's bare back. "The way you looked at her and reacted to her. The way you got flustered around her so much you tripped over your own tongue trying to form words when she was around that first time. Though I will give you credit for not ogling her when she was naked." he says with a small frown, sliding his hand into Sherlock's hair and tightening his hand in the curls, giving them a slight tug.

"You're a jealous man." Sherlock says quietly, amused. "Jealous and possessive, I imagine. You're already protective of me. What will you do to those poor people that flirt with me? I am a rather attractive man, you know." he says casually but with a slightly playful tone to his voice.

Just the thought of anyone trying to get this close to his detective makes John feel very possessive, and he swiftly rolls them over so that Sherlock is pinned beneath John's body. He also pins the detective's wrists on either side of his head. "They can't have you." he nearly growls, voice stronger and more confident as he dominates the younger man.

Too surprised to do anything about it, Sherlock ends up on his back, a little surprised as he looks up at John. "Yes, very possessive.." he says with a little smirk, not trying to free himself, just looking up at his doctor. "I wouldn't want any of them, John. Only you can put up with all my eccentricities, my attitude. Only you can make me feel like this John." He reassures with a little purr in his throat, leaning up to capture John's lips in a reassuring kiss. Slowly, the detective arches his body into his flatmate's, enjoying the feel of the soldier's more solid, muscular body against his, and the appreciative noise the other makes.

The kiss starts to become a little deeper, and John's hold on Sherlock's wrists gets a little more gentle until his thumbs are stroking up and down against his skin. Finally, the doctor pulls away from the kiss, smiling a little. "Well, if that's the reaction I get every time I become possessive, I get the feeling you like it." He says quietly, releasing Sherlock's hands before settling down against him, giving him a few more soft kisses. "How long did you know, how you felt about me?" he asks as he looks into those quicksilver eyes.

"Before I came back." Sherlock says honestly. "I thought you were just my best friend, my only friend. You were absolutely a conductor of light, you always asked the right questions. But when I lost you., I found out other things. Like how I kept talking to you when you weren't there because I wished you were there. I kept doing that, you know. Taking to you, but you were never there. Never as surprising and clever as you. You weren't there to make me eat, make me tea. I missed you. more than I thought I would. And as I thought about.. who I did this for, you were at the top. Lestrade, yes. Mrs. Hudson, of course. But you.. you were important in a different way. I was in Italy when I figured it out." he says as he looks up at John. "I should bring you to the hotel I stayed at, sometime. It's got a beautiful view, it's close to the beach, but it's discreet." he says with a little smile, then he sighs. "When I checked in, I immediately thought that you would like it. And it's then, watching the couples, that I realized for the first time in a decade, I wanted to do those things with you. I wanted more than just friendship from you. But you were straight. You said so. Repeatedly." He points out, smirking a little. "I tried to bury those feelings when I came back. So that things would be the same between us. I'm very glad they changed." The consulting detective admits, slipping his arms around John quietly after his hands are released.

"Of course you did." John says with a little laugh. "You're always so far ahead of everyone." he says affectionately s he looks down at the man under him. "I have a feeling our entire relationship is going to be like this. You and me, fighting for dominance, sometime giving it up to the other before trying to get it back." John admits, grinning as he looks at the other man, kissing him lightly again.

While John is distracted with the kisses, Sherlock takes advantage and flips them over again, maintaining the kiss for a few moments before he pulls away, looking smugly triumphant. "Perhaps." He says before he sits u pa little. "I got you presents." He says in a swift change of subject. "One was too big to bring here with us. Well, it's something for me to use, but it will benefit you.. I was told it's not nearly as selfish as it sounds." he says before he takes a deep breath. "The other two I brought with us, but I want to give you one of them tonight. It's more sentimental, I'd rather give it to you in private." he says as he starts to disentangle himself from John and sit up, looking at his flatmate nervously.

It takes a few moments for the emotional whiplash to clear and John understand what Sherlock said, then he smiles, sitting up and reaching out to touch Sherlock's cheek. "Alright, then. Only if you open one of mine." He says with a little grin as he watches Sherlock. "My family used to do this when I was young. We were allowed to open one present on Christmas Eve. Usually it was one that we picked out, but this works as well." John slips off of the bed and he smirks as he walks over to the bag of presents he bought, "No peeking, I don't want you deducing what you're getting." he says in a firm tone.

Sherlock grins brightly for a moment, seeming childish as he hops up out of bed, going to his own present hiding place and bringing back a rectangular box, looking to be some sort of clothing box, which is wrapped neatly in Christmas paper. He puts it on the bed, sitting down and then waits for John to pull out the present he wants Sherlock to have.

John feels kind of silly about the presents that he got, but he finally chooses the one that for him has the most sentiment. He considers the box for a few moments before he turns and heads back to the bed, putting his box on top of the one Sherlock left there. "You first." he says quietly, sitting on the other side of the boxes from Sherlock and waits eagerly.

Picking up the box, Sherlock examines it closely for a few moments, shaking it before he starts to open the wrapping. When he gets to just a plain white box, he looks a little disappointed and shakes his head at the elaborate wrapping. Opening the box, he stares a little at what he finds inside, pulling out the leather bound book, the pages inside substantial, the dark brown binding having silver letting and embossed ivy patterns around the edges. The title of it reads 'The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes'. Confused but intrigued, Sherlock slowly opens the book and he flips through the first few pages, staring a little as he sees the title to the first chapter, which reads 'A Study in Pink'.

"It's the cases. Our cases. I... wrote them up properly. Not just for my blog. I put in the details, everything I could remember about every case we worked, before your Fall." John explains as he looks at Sherlock. "I had to go through your notes to remember everything, but it's all there. Everything I could remember from every case we'd been on. I wanted you to have a physical record, to show you how amazing you are and how many people you've helped, in case you ever doubt it." The doctor explains as he looks at Sherlock nervously, not sure if it's too sentimental. "I talked to the man who made it for me, if we want to put more in it, we just have to write everything up and take it back to him, he can put more pages in it." he says with a small smile.

Sherlock just stares at the book, closing it slowly and running his hands over the front. "John.." he whispers, throat closing up for a moment and he swallows past the sudden lump in his throat. "This is perfect. Thank you." He says with a small nod, not knowing what else to say. Only John knows how proud he is of his work, how much he likes to show off sometimes and be clever. Only John would think to have a permanent record of his triumphs, just for him. "You forgot something, John." he says as he looks at the title. "These aren't just my adventures. It should say 'The adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson'.." he says as he looks down at the book. "We'll have to have it altered." he says casually with a small shrug. Not letting go of the book, he pushes the other box across the bed toward John.

Grinning like a fool, John leans across and pulls Sherlock close to give him a thorough kiss. "After the holidays." he promises, before he leans back and opens his present, less meticulous as he rips off the wrapping and pops open the box. Confused, John reaches in and pulls out a black jacket, made of what appears to be a thick canvas, waterproofed if the slightly slick feel to it is any indication. His old jacket had been getting quite worn out and a few weeks ago had become victim of a fire that they were trying to make their way out of. The coat in front of him looks to be of good quality, slightly thicker than his old one. Sherlock had thought about how he hasn't entirely adjusted to the cold of London again, and the fact that the cold makes John's shoulder ache if he's exposed to it for too long. He examines the jacket, noticing the inside pockets, doing a double take. "Sherlock... did you have one of these pockets modified into a gun holster?" he asks in shock.

Looking a little sheepish, Sherlock nods slowly. "Yes. It's designed so that it's nearly undetectable. Even to someone like me, I saw it demonstrated." He says as he looks at the older man in front of him. "Also.. there's an experimental bullet resistant fabric sewn into the lining." He mumbles, sounding a little more embarrassed about this.

John looks a little surprised, examining the jacket. "Thank you, Sherlock.. this must have cost a small fortune.." He stares at it for a few moments, and then looks up at the detective's anxious face, slowly grinning. "I love it." he reassures, leaning in for another kiss before he gets up and slips the jacket on, zipping it up before he flexes a little in it, swinging his arms and twisting to see how it moves. "It's perfect, Sherlock." he says with a small nod. Plus he looks quite smart in it, the way it's tailored, it compliments his wide shoulders and sturdy frame.

"I knew it would look good on you." Sherlock fairly purrs from the bed, shoving the boxes and wrapping paper off, putting the book on the bedside table. "Take it off and come back to bed, John.." he says as he stretches out on the bed, putting his arms above his head. Maybe he's showing off a little, knowing that when he's stretched out on the couch is when he feels John's eyes linger on him the most.

With a small smirk, John slips out of the jacket and hangs it over a chair, looking at it for a few moments. He's touched because it means that Sherlock was thinking about his safety, comfort, and his appearance. It's truly an amazing gift coming from Sherlock Holmes. When he turns around he sees Sherlock splayed on the bed and his jaw drops a tiny bit before he licks his lips slowly, admiring the lean line of his body, the way his muscles stretch and the long line of his neck that just begs to be kissed and sucked and marked.

And this beautiful creature, this amazing genius, is all his. This man has chosen John Watson to be with of all people.

"Bloody hell, Sherlock, you're breathtaking. I am a very, very lucky man."

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**What do you guys think? Good presents? :) If anyone has any ideas for what their more 'public' presents should be, please let me know!**

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, it makes me very happy to see those in my inbox. :) If you have any questions/comments/suggestions, please feel free to message me, or leave a message on a review and I'll get back to you ASAP. I hope you all are enjoying reading this as much as I am writing this. :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**WARNING: Sexy times ahead! Nothing explicit, but yeah. Also, not sure if what happens is really, er, possible. But yeah. So please don't be angry if you disagree. x.x**

**I hope you guys are still enjoying the reading, and thank you for your lovely reviews! If you object to sexy times, you can skip this chapter without missing anything important. :)**

**Also.. OH MY GOD! 5,000 views! Wow! Thank you so much!**

**And now.. please enjoy!**

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Sherlock smirks a little as he looks over at John, waiting until the doctor gets closer to the bed before he slowly starts to sit up, getting onto his knees on the bed. "Am I?" he asks, having an impish glint to his eye as he looks at the other man innocently. When he gets close enough, Sherlock wraps his long arms around John's waist, caressing his skin as the detective kisses him, using everything he's learned so far as to what John likes and what he responds to best. All of which he has paid careful attention to and filed away in the 'John' room of his mind palace. Minutes pass like this before Sherlock finally breaks away, slowly kissing along the doctor's jaw and then down his neck slowly.

This was not what John expected when he came over closer to the bed, but he doesn't mind the kisses, his hand sliding into the already mussed curls, his other hand curling around to draw little circles on Sherlock's lower back near the waist of his pants, stroking the skin softly. But when the younger man starts kissing down his jaw, he takes a deep breath, tilting his head up a little bit, contrary to the words that come out of his mouth. "Sherlock.. I thought we agreed, nothing sexual here, and definitely not yet..." he says quietly, though he makes no effort to stop his actions since it's been quite a while since he's felt... physically desirable this way. Most of the time it's him pursuing the women, him seducing them, they don't usually give him a whole lot of attention back, besides kissing and such. They don't take the time to learn what he likes, how he likes things. But Sherlock being the brilliant man that he is, applies his process the same to this as he might to solving his case.

"We agreed not to shag. I don't intend to take this much farther." Sherlock reassures in between kisses, long-fingered hands exploring the well-muscled back of his flatmate. "I finally get the chance to touch you, John. Please let me." He says in a softer tone, sitting back a little away from John to look at him. He feels very exposed and vulnerable right now, not trying to hide it from John, his sharp eyes looking over the other man's face and briefly down over the rest of him, looking for any signs that he's not doing the right thing, that this might be a Bit Not Good.

John isn't quite sure what shocks him more, the fact that Sherlock actually said 'please', or the vulnerable, uncertain expression on his face. He doesn't release Sherlock, so it's easy to pull him back, pulling his hand from those curls to cup his cheek and brush this thumb over those sharp cheekbones. "Oh, Sherlock.." He whispers quietly, leaning down just slightly to kiss him again lingeringly. Tenderly breaking it, he smiles a little. "Alright.. It's not as if I could ever say no to you, anyway." he says with amusement, sliding his hand back into the curls to card through them slowly.

Sherlock looks more than pleased, and perhaps a little predatory as he quickly moves back close to John, nipping at his ear and breathing a soft. "Thank you.." In his ear before he moves his attentions back to his neck, kissing, nipping and sucking on it as his hands caress over his skin. He's done with one side and kisses along his collarbone and shoulder, before he licks a stripe up the front of John's neck, nipping at his upturned chin before he moves to the other side, wondering if it's as sensitive. If the sighs, and soft groans are anything to go by, he's doing an excellent job. And the effect is rather obvious in the tightening of John's pajama's as well, which further pleases Sherlock.

"Blimey, Sherlock.. You're good at everything, aren't you?" John asks, breathing a little heavier as he submits himself to Sherlock's explorations, tightening his hand on the back of Sherlock's neck with a small gasp when the detective licks up his throat. After the nip, he lets out a small groan, hand splaying open on Sherlock's lower back to pull him a little closer.

A deep, dark chuckle comes from Sherlock as he hides his face slightly against John's skin. "I am a genius." He points out, placing a few more soft kisses. "You always have a smell of gun oil or gunpowder on you, did you know that?" He breaths, lips against John's ear.

"Cheeky." John says playfully, then he merely hums softly, knowing he should have guessed that Sherlock's nose would be sensitive enough to pick up things like that.

A few more sharp nips are given to John, and Sherlock notices the same reaction as when he placed soft bites on John's chest as before. A mixture of pain and pleasure, though John clearly enjoys it if the little, barely-contained thrust of his hips is any indication. A possessive part of the detective rears its head as he looks at the blank expanse of his doctor's neck and shoulder, and before he can think too much about it, he tightens his hold on John so he can't escape, before he bites down hard on John's skin, right at the junction between neck and shoulder, a place that will be easily hidden under John's normal shirts. His bite, combined with him sucking softly as well at the same time, is guaranteed to leave a rather sensitive mark by tomorrow.

"Sherlock!" John nearly shouts in surprise, and contrary to what his brain is telling him, his hand tightens in Sherlock's hair, hips thrusting forward as he pulls the younger man's head closer to him, and throws his head back with a small gasp, breathing heavily as he feels Sherlock release him. "Fuck." he says in shock afterwards, blinking a few times and feeling rather dazed.

Deciding to let John recover for a few moments, Sherlock gently starts to lick over the bruised spot after he releases John, soothing it softly with his tongue and placing a soft kiss on his skin. "My, my, John.. you are very responsive.." he says with a small smirk, before he presses close to gives him a soft kiss, then realizing something is different, he sits back on his heels, glancing down at John's trousers to arch an eyebrow a little. "Mmmm.. /very/ responsive.." he says in a slightly deeper tone, eyes raking up John's form to look into his eyes, a small, satisfied and smug look on his face.

Confused, and still a little out of it, John slowly looks down as well, eyes widening as he realizes just what happened and why his head feels so fuzzy. His mouth opens and closes in shock as he realizes that Sherlock had him worked up enough, and that spot is apparently enough of an erogenous zone for him that he orgasmed from the bite. No words come out of his mouth so he closes it, a blush creeping up over his cheeks. Finally, he clears his throat as he looks at the detective. "Er. Right. Well. Apparently I should go clean up." He finally says, awkwardly turning to retrieve another set of clothes and walk slowly to the bathroom to get cleaned up and changed.

Giving him a few moments to himself, Sherlock gets up after a few minutes of water running, figuring that John should be cleaned up. Displaying his usual lack of respect for privacy, he walks over to the bathroom door and opens it, finding John leaning toward the mirror to examine the blooming bruise. "Don't worry, it will be easily hidden by your ridiculous jumpers." he says playfully as he leans against the doorway slowly, meeting the older man's eyes in the mirror. "I'll have to keep that spot in mind, however." he practically purrs as he pushes away from the wall and moves up behind John, slipping his arms around his waist.

"I still can't believe I... that.. has never happened to me before." John admits, blushing again as he glances at Sherlock in the mirror, admiring the image of them together for a few moments and putting his hand over one of Sherlock's on his chest. "From a medical standpoint, I'm rather surprised such a thing is possible. At least for a man my age." he says with a self-deprecating chuckle.

"You're not that old, John. You're in the prime of your life." Sherlock says firmly, arms tightening as his mood swings from smugly affectionate to slightly concerned, statistics going through his mind combining with things that he knows about John and the doctor's physical health. His mind has too much information though and goes down too many roads. He can feel his heart pounding in anxiety as he thinks about something happening to John or losing him this soon, breathing coming quicker as he stares at John's reflection in the mirror.

Concerned as John notices the change in his flatmate's demeanor, he turns around quickly to look at him. "Sherlock? Sherlock, are you ok?" He asks, putting his hands on either side of the detective's face. Finally figuring out that he's going into a panic attack, he pulls Sherlock out into the bedroom, sitting him down. "It's alright, Sherlock. I'm here. It's ok." he says as he sits behind Sherlock, putting his legs on either side of him, arms around his chest. "Take deep breaths, Sherlock.. calm down." he says, taking deep breaths himself, letting Sherlock feel it. It worries him a lot that anything could cause this reaction, so when he figures out what must have happened, he tightens his arms a little, pulling Sherlock back to lean against him. "I'm right here, Sherlock. I'm not going anywhere. I'm a doctor. I look after myself. I'm healthy. Running after you makes sure I stay in good shape, you bloody idiot." he says playfully, kissing the side of his head gently.

Sherlock closes his eyes, matching John's breaths and taking slow, deep breath as he forces himself to calm down, "I apologize, John." he says quietly after he's calmed down, tilting his head back against John's good shoulder, taking a few deep breaths. "It has been a long day, as you know I'm not usually this emotionally unstable." he says quietly, closing his eyes as he relaxes into John. "Maybe we should go to bed. Despite the extra sleep I got this afternoon, I'm finding myself quite drained.

A small chuckle comes from John, reverberating through the man in his arms, before he turns to kiss his temple softly, then drops his head to kiss his detective's shoulder. "Come on, then. Get yourself up on the bed." he says before he slips out from behind him, blowing out the candles, giving his eyes a moment to adjust before he turns and heads back to the bed, climbing onto it.

"You can't sleep on that side. You have to sleep on the other." Sherlock says in a firm tone, almost petulant from where he sits in the middle of the bed. "We can't cuddle properly without you hurting your shoulder, if you're on that side." he scolds, waiting until John, chuckling, changes places. Then, Sherlock slips under the covers and makes sure to set the alarm before he slips over to cuddle up to John, wrapping arms and legs around John until they get comfortable.

"Goodnight, Sherlock." John says quietly, knowing he might have some trouble getting to sleep with how busy the day has been, fingers stroking Sherlock's back lazily to comfort both of them.

Sherlock stretches in a catlike manner for a moment before he returns to being curled up around John, nodding a little and rubbing his cheek against John's chest, already half asleep before he replies.

"Goodnight, my John."


	14. Chapter 14

If only the night would pass peacefully, but unfortunately that is not to be. The emotional turmoil of the day and the unfamiliar surroundings, the unfamiliar weight of someone against him means that john's mind is unsettled enough to let the nightmares in. It's not the first or last time he's had dreams of Afghanistan, though they had mostly been overshadowed by nightmares of watching Sherlock jump off St. Bart's when he was still pretending to be dead. Tonight it's worse, the dreams combining so that it's Sherlock lying on John's operating table, that he's trying to save amidst the explosions and gunfire from the obvious fight outside.

Sherlock is not a heavy sleeper, so when John starts to twitch in his sleep it wakes Sherlock up. For a brief moment he's confused, and then he realizes what's going on, untangling himself from the older man since that doesn't seem to be helping. But he doesn't like the way John is starting to thrash around a bit, his whimpers turning into anguished cries, his name being mixed in with the rest. Plus he doesn't want anyone to wake up and come to figure out what's going on, so he leans down, shaking John's shoulders. "John, you're having a nightmare. John!" He says sharply as he tries to wake the other.

The shaking and such works, but maybe just not how Sherlock was expecting. Because while John wakes up he's not fully aware of where he is for a moment, he just sees someone slightly unknown in front of him, so he grabs one of the arms that, to his nightmare riddled mind, are holding him down, quickly flipping Sherlock onto his back. He straddles his hips, legs holding down Sherlock's, one hand on his throat, the other up over his head, looking like it's curled around the hilt of a knife, except there's no knife.

Though thoroughly startled, Sherlock doesn't fight back, having enough sense to know that would just make things worse. "John. It's me. It's Sherlock." he says in a firm tone, bringing his hand up slowly to touch John's cheek, not interfering with the hands on him. "Please, John, you're hurting me." he admits when John's hand tightens fractionally, his voice a little rough from the restriction.

It takes another moment for John's eyes to clear and for him to visibly focus on Sherlock below him. Lowering his arm slowly, he stares. "Sherlock?" he asks, voice rough from sleep and his earlier yelling. It takes another moment for him to realize he has his hand around the younger man's throat, and he jerks it back as if burned, scrambling off of Sherlock. "Bloody hell! My God, I'm so sorry, Sherlock. What happened?" he asks, running a hand through his hair. "I had a nightmare, didn't I? I'm sorry, I should have warned you." He says, but he keeps well back from Sherlock, taking a few deep breaths to try and calm himself down. "Did I hurt you?" he asks in concern.

Sherlock slowly sits up, putting a hand against his neck for a few moments. "I'm alright, John. It won't even bruise." He reassures, looking at John before he moves a little closer, frowning a little as he watches the older man wince a little at his approach. "It's alright.. I'm not upset, John. It's ok." he says as he moves closer again, slowly sitting down beside him, turning to wrap his arms around John, putting legs on either side of him to surround him as much as possible, leaning down to give him a light kiss. "You startled me, that's all. What were you dreaming about? You kept calling my name." he says quietly as he holds the other man, trying to reassure him that he's fine, not upset or anything.

Normally John would object to this type of coddling, but he is a little shaken up between the nightmare and then waking up to find that he's been strangling his best friend. So instead of wiggling his way free, he turns and cuddles against the taller man, taking a deep breath. "It was Afghanistan. We were under attack, I was trying to save a young soldier's life.. Lieutenant Lantham. He was so young. that's how the memory goes at least. The nightmare was worse. Instead of Lantham, it was you." he says, taking a slow, trembling breath. "You were bleeding, it was like St. Bart's all over again, except you were still alive and I.. I couldn't save you.. Then insurgents broke in, and they were pulling me away.." He says slowly, closing his eyes and taking a slow, deep breath. "Maybe us sharing a bed wasn't such a good idea, Sherlock. I could have really hurt you." He says quietly, lifting his hand slowly to touch that long, pale neck, stroking the skin lightly.

Sighing a little for a few moments and tightening his arms around John's body, the detective leans down to give his doctor a soft kiss. "No. We're not giving up. We learned something, and next time you have a nightmare I'll be prepared. It's been a long day. Your anger at Mycroft, everything we've gone through. You tend to have more nightmares after emotional upsets. And you had more when you first came to Baker Street, before you got used to it, so perhaps it also has to do with being somewhere unfamiliar." He says thoughtfully, absently rubbing one of John's arms. "We should try and get back to sleep." he offers, pulling away a little to slide down on the bed, tugging John until they're laying down again, but this time Sherlock slides up behind John, putting his arms securely around him, thinking it might be better if he doesn't feel like he's pinned down to the bed. "Alright?" he asks as he watches John's profile for a few moments.

Still exhausted, John nods a little. "Yeah. Good. Might take me a while to go back to sleep. Go back to sleep, Sherlock." he says quietly, closing his eyes as he squeezes Sherlock's hand for a moment, falling quiet but having trouble going back to sleep, even if he does manage it eventually.

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**So, yeah. Not really happy with this chapter, and I was going to just delete it and try something different, but I figured since I had written it, I might as well post it and let you all decide.**

**Anyway, here it its. Morning scenes will be next. I will try and get another chapter up today to make up for this fail. .**


	15. Chapter 15

Morning comes, and Sherlock finds he's been awake for a few hours, not used to getting so much sleep. But he continues to lay holding the other man. The night before still worries him, that maybe John isn't as ok as he says he is. No one can hide from the world's only consulting detective, except this amazing man who has come into his life. Normally he can read John rather easily in the moment, but the former soldier is still able to surprise him from time to time. That means he can't be sure about the things he thought he knew about John. It's all very confusing and Sherlock doesn't like it at all. Finally, he starts to slide away from the other man, kissing the back of his head gently before slips out of bed and heads to the bathroom. He's sure that John will not be in a good mood this morning, so he wants to make sure that he has all the comforts that he usually requires in the morning. Namely breakfast and tea. Knowing that he won't be up for a few hours yet, Sherlock takes a quick shower, then grabs his favorite blue silk dressing gown to put over his t-shirt and pajama bottoms, silently sneaking out to try and get down to the kitchen without being seen. He's a little surprised to see Q already up and down there as well. "Ford." he greets quietly.

Q looks up from where he was sipping a cup of earl grey and he nods a little to his brother. "Sherlock, good morning. Merry Christmas." he greets quietly, still in his own t-shirt and pajama pants, glasses on and hair mussed from sleep.

"Merry Christmas." Sherlock says as he goes to get himself a mug of coffee, speaking quietly with one of the cooks who are in a different part of the kitchen, before he comes back, looking at his brother. "You and James have a good night?" he asks awkwardly but with a little smirk.

Watching his brother for a few moments, Q blushes a little. "We did, not that it's any of your business. But it's also not like that. We haven't been.. intimate." he says awkwardly, shifting in his seat, "You and John?" He asks, having figured out the night before that the two of them were sharing a room. He can't help but smirk a little as he considers it.

Sherlock stares into his mug with a slight smirk. "Together, but as you said.. not intimate. Despite my attempts." he says with a little sigh. "It seems John is more virtuous when it comes to me than I might like." He admits with a slight sigh as he sips at his coffee.

"Was he the one screaming in the middle of the night?" Q asks slowly as he finishes his tea and pushes the mug aside, sitting back a little before he looks over at his brother.

Humming tonelessly in agreement, Sherlock takes a deep breath. "He was a soldier. He got invalided home, and came back from Afghanistan with PTSD. He still has nightmares. We weren't together before yesterday. That, combined with the unfamiliar place and meeting my family, I think weakened his subconscious against his memories. If it weren't for that, he would be up by now." The detective explains. "I'm sorry that he woke you." he says with a nod of his head. "I had not anticipated that happening, he hasn't had as many nightmares in the last few months." he says quietly, letting his guard down around his brother and allowing him to see how very worried he's been over John.

Sometimes it's very hard to understand your relatives, Q knows this, but Sherlock has always been a special enigma to him. He understands Mycroft better than he does Sherlock. "You can't possibly know everything, Sherlock, no matter how you might try. If you were able to comfort him, that's a huge step from the last time we spoke. He must be a good influence on you." he says thoughtfully as he looks around the kitchen slowly.

A small nod from the detective is given before he takes a drink of his coffee. "He is, according to pretty much everyone." he says quietly as he thinks about it. "Does James make you happy, Ford?" He asks, looking over at his brother, having been worried about that because of the incident with Jasper which was difficult for the family to watch.

Q considers the question for a few moments, and then nods quietly. "Yes. So far, he makes me quite happy. I've cared about him for quite a few months I'm afraid. It's just taken us a little longer to get to this point." He says honestly, then thinks for a few more moments. "I know what he does is dangerous, and it's possible that he may not come back from his next mission. But I don't want to use that as an excuse to rush into something that I'll regret." he says before he looks down at the countertop in front of him. "I won't rush into things again, Lock." Knowing this conversation was going to come hasn't made it any easier, and he takes a deep breath for a few moments. "What about you? I know you said when you were away you were pining after John. Does being with him again make you happy?" He asks as he leans back in his chair.

"Yes." Sherlock's quick, easy answer is as he looks over at Q. "Being with him again.. it's like coming home. Only to a home I never thought existed. I don't believe I ever had a feeling of 'home' before I met John." He says, pressing his hands together in front of his face in his classic thinking pose. "Whether it was at Baker Street r somewhere else, I believe it would be home as long as he was there." he says quietly, before he takes a deep breath and finishes his coffee. "Speaking of Baker Street, John wishes me to invite you to visit sometime." he explains as he looks over at Q.

The cooks bring out a tray of food, then, looking like breakfast for two with a pot of tea from the smell of it, along with milk and sugar for it and a few other condiments. Q considers as he watches his brother examine the food, smirking a little. "Perhaps if I have some free time, and you're not on a case. I'll keep the invitation in mind. Ah. I know you have never been into gift-giving, and your acceptance of James is more than enough of a Christmas present for me, but I didn't want you to be surprised that I did get you and John a present each. And if you like, tell John not to worry about a present. I don't expect anything in return, and I have a feeling that you gave him very little warning about me." He says with a slight smirk at his older brother.

Sherlock just shrugs a little, picking up the tray. "I'll let him know." he pauses for a few moments. "Call me if you need me, or if you'd like to talk. Just don't complain if I give you the truth." he warns before he looks down at the food. "I had better get this back to John before he wakes up. He gets grumpy if he can't have his tea in the morning." He says with a fond little smile for a moment before his face clears and he turns to head out. "I'll see you in time for presents, Ford." he says before he heads back up to his room, glad that when he slips in John still appears to be asleep, and he's able to set down the tray on the desk with a minimum of ruckus.

Wanting John to get the most sleep that he can, Sherlock is torn between waking him up so the food doesn't get cold and letting him sleep. After a small debate, Sherlock sighs a little as he walks over to the bed, leaning down and gently rolling the man's pliant body onto his back before he leans in and kisses him, slowly and gently, coaxing him to wakefulness and then gently coaxing a response from him.

Waking up to a certain consulting detective kissing him is a good way for John to wake up, his dreams having been peaceful. When he finally gets aware enough, he returns the kiss, deepening it a little as one hand comes up to pull him down closer for a few moments before slowly releasing him, smiling a little up at the younger man, letting his hand rest along the slightly stubbled cheek. "Good morning to you, too." he says with a smile, slowly stretching.

The response that Sherlock gets from the kiss sends a little thrill through him, knowing that he did something right. Afterall, John didn't push him away or yell at him or anything, he actually pulled him closer. To Sherlock, that is a very, very good sign. Looking rather pleased with himself as he watches his doctor stretch, he nods. "Good morning, and Merry Christmas." he says quietly getting up and then bringing the tray over to the bed, carefully slipping onto the bed with it and putting it in the middle, pouring them both some tea and making it the way John likes it before he hands it over. "I brought you some breakfast. I did not want to deal with the family over breakfast, and I know how grumpy you get if you don't have your tea and something proper to eat in the morning."

John laughs happily and he takes the tea, taking a drink. "Mmm. That's good. Thank you. You didn't delete how I like my tea or what I like to eat in the morning. I'm flattered, Sherlock." he says with amusement before he reaches out and touches Sherlock's neck gently. "Are you sore at all?" he asks, worry overshadowing the previous happiness in his face, remembering how he had his hand around Sherlock's throat after his dream the night before.

"I'm fine. No bruising, no residual soreness. Full range of motion." Sherlock reassures, taking the other man's hand away from his neck and placing a kiss in the center of the palm before releasing it completely.

Relaxing a little and regaining some of his humor. "Good." he says with a nod, considering. "I would be suspicious of why you brought me breakfast if I didn't know how much you wanted to avoid your family until you have to talk to them." John says with a little smirk, glancing at the plates. "You going to eat, too?" he asks, a little surprised, but pleased.

Sherlock nods a little. "Yes. Dinner last night was good, but I thought it would be good to eat breakfast as well." If only to please John, though he's not about to say that one out loud. And he's a little disturbed that that even crossed through his thought process. He puts his tea on the tray before he hands John his breakfast and takes up his own, though his own is still considerably smaller than the other.

Getting Sherlock to eat a piece of toast in the morning is a fight, so John seeing him eat two pieces of toast, and what looks to be about two eggs' worth of scrambled eggs, makes the doctor very happy. Therefore, he doesn't comment on it, eating his own breakfast silently as he leans back against the headrest, wincing a little and lifting a hand to put it over the spot that twinges, causing him to hiss lightly when he presses down. "Blimey, Sherlock, I'd hate to see what this bruise looks like right now." He says with a slight smirk as he looks over at the man responsible for the round bruise on his shoulder with obvious teeth marks in the middle that are a bit more red than the rest. Still, when he's not pressing down on it, it proves to be more sensitive, and not necessarily in a bad way.

It was probably too much to hope for, getting any sort of guilty expression from the world's only consulting detective, the expression on Sherlock's face is closer to pleased and smug as he turns a little, chewing his toast, to reach out and brush John's hand away from the bruise, lightly running his fingertips over it, watching the small shiver that runs through the older man's body. "It's quite sensitive, I see. It should be easy to hide, don't worry. I was very careful." he says with a little smirk, before he finishes the rest of his food, putting the dish back on the tray and pouring himself a second cup of tea.

"Yes, it is sensitive, you prat." John says as he swats Sherlock's hand away gently, finishing his meal before he smiles softly. "This is still a bit odd." He admits honestly as he looks at the detective. "After so long, being here with you like this, Sherlock, so very domestic..." he shakes his head. "It feels like we're in an odd sort of bubble. I just hope it doesn't burst when we get back to Baker Street." he says, finishing his tea before he gets up and stretches again, going to get some clothes and his shower stuff. "I'm going to take a shower." he says as he glances back at Sherlock as if expecting some sort of response.

Instead, all he gets is a noncommittal hum. "Were you wanting me to join you?" he asks after a moment with a slight smirk. "Because I took one earlier." He says casually, picking the tray up off the bed and putting it back on the desk before he picks up his cell phone, walking over to John and giving him a light kiss before he goes over to the bed and stretches out to fiddle with his phone.

John is about to make some comment, but then he chuckles a little. He shakes his head, not really sure what he was expecting from Sherlock, or even what he might have asked. But as always, the younger man read his mind. He stays still long enough to receive the kiss from the taller man, before he smirks a little and turns toward the bathroom, calling over his shoulder.

"You are a real git sometimes, Sherlock. Idiot."

* * *

**Ok, I feel much better about this chapter than the last. Now that I'm good with that, I can work on the chapter for my other story. I threw a bit more Q/Sherlock in here just because, well.. It wanted to be written, apparently.**

**I hope you enjoy, this week I may be a little delayed in my postings because of the holidays. Reviews/comments welcome!**


	16. Chapter 16

Once showered, John emerges to find clothes, putting on the pair of jeans that Sherlock packed for him, and then he frowns a little. Pulling out a t-shirt that says 'Army' across the front, he puts it on, and then looks at the rest of his clothes. "Sherlock..." he says in a frustrated groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You packed me a t-shirt and a sweatshirt?" he asks in surprise as he looks at the detective, pulling out a sweatshirt he probably hasn't worn in five years. It's comfortable and warm, but he prefers his jumpers and button-ups for the most part.

Looking rather innocent as he pulls out his own clothes, Sherlock looks over at John. "I thought you might be more comfortable in that. There's a jumper in there too if you insist on wearing it." He says with a little bit of a distaste to his tone. About then is when he slips out of his pajama bottoms and into a pair of jeans - jeans! - that are well-fitting and probably designer in their own right. They're not too tight, having a faded stonewash type look to them, and they are also in excellent condition. The detective appears rather nonchalant as he pulls them on and fastens them, then looks into his bag for a moment before pulling out a button-up that John has also never seen before. It's older, less posh than what he usually wears, but the fabric is a medium green that sets off his eyes rather well. He slips it on, tucking it into his jeans and rolling the arms up slowly after buttoning it.

Through all of this, John just stares a little, admiring the fit of the jeans and licking his lips for a few moments. "Bloody hell, Sherlock. Where have you been hiding those clothes?" He asks as he slips his sweatshirt on and stands up, moving over to put his hand against Sherlock's arm, feeling the fabric of the shirt curiously. "Never thought I'd see you in jeans.." he says as he looks down at those long legs now clad in denim.

"I thought you may appreciate it." Sherlock says as he looks at John for a few moments. "As I appreciate you in more casual clothes. Your normal clothes hide your physique, which is still quite impressive." he notes, then he smirks. "And the bruise I gave you is still hidden.." he smirks a little. "Mostly." he says as he runs one long finger along the edge of the t-shirt's collar, a slight bit of the bruise visible if you're really looking for it.

While John is still annoyed at Sherlock for the whole biting thing, he can't say some part of him likes the mark, mostly that it's there and only he and Sherlock know it's there, or what it might signify. Reaching up, the doctor puts his hand on the back of the younger man's neck, pulling him down closer to him. "Glad you appreciate my physique." He says with a slight smirk, sighing a little. "I almost wish we could stay here longer, not because of your family, I don't want to be with them longer. But because you're different here. I know this.. honeymoon period we seem to be having, will be gone when we get to Baker Street. And I think I'll miss it a little." he says with a smile, before he closes the gap between them and gives the detective a deep kiss, not pressing for more, mostly just taking his time to re-learn the feel of Sherlock's lips, of their tongues sliding together, the taste of the coffee lingering on his lips.

When they finally break apart, Sherlock watches his doctor, uncertain and trying to figure him out. 'Honeymoon period' is what he said, implying that the two days have been idyllic and unusual. That bothers him because he knows some things will change back at Baker Street, mainly him having more things to occupy his mind, but he isn't sure why that would change how they act toward eachother. And that is where the detective gets confused. he doesn't want to say anything, not wanting to show his ignorance in this matter even though he knows it's great. he just doesn't understand and that makes him a little angry.

"What is it, Sherlock?" John asks, seeing how intense the detective looks, lifting his hand to stroke his cheek lightly. "I can't read minds like you do.. you have to tell me what you're thinking, or I can't help." he points out, dropping his hand away and shifting back a little, crossing his arms over his chest.

Still confused, Sherlock lets out a slightly frustrated sigh. "I don't understand." he says as he looks at John. "Why do you insist on thinking that this is somehow.. temporary? You seem to think that when we go back to Baker Street, everything that has happened here will disappear." he says, frustrated and a little upset. "This is not a dream, it is not something that will go away, I am not going to suddenly get bored with you when you have occupied my thoughts for nearly three years. You nearly have your own wing in my mind palace, John. I cannot delete anything when it comes to you. I tried once, when I was taking down Moriarty's web, and my feelings for you were particularly distracting." he says as he watches the small doctor in front of him. "I couldn't do it." He tries to explain to John, grabbing his upper arms as he tries to get him to see. But as always he's not good with expressing or understand emotions.

A little startled by the man's outburst, John blinks owlishly up at Sherlock for a few moments, before he relaxes a little. "Sherlock. You remember when you first came back.. I would sometimes come rushing back into the room, just to make sure it wasn't a dream, that you were real?" For a moment he pauses and waits for Sherlock to nod, then he takes a deep breath. "This is the same. I just can't believe it's real, yet. It seems too much like a dream. Here, in this place, it's not real. It's like a fairy land or something. At least that's how it feels to me. But when we leave here, the spell may be broken. Baker Street is our home. I hope that things don't change as drastically as I am afraid they will. And there's nothing you can say or do, it's just something that I have to experience. Like checking your pulse or making sure you're still there, still real." John explains as he looks at Sherlock, "Come on, then. Best not to keep your mother waiting." he says, lifting his head to give Sherlock another kiss.

Taking that all in for a few moments, the detective nods a little for a few moments. "I understand, John." He reassures, before he goes and collects the presents he hid in his bag, adding them to the bag that John already had before he picks it up. "If we must. Lets go then." he says before he turns and strides out.

As always, that leaves John behind to catch up, clumsily slipping into some socks before he half-runs after the long-legged man, smirking a little as he comes up behind him. "I like your arse in those jeans." he says with a little grin as he glances at the other man, feeling quite smug with himself when Sherlock's step falters just a little. To anyone else it would be undetectable, but John has known the younger man long enough to be able to tell when something catches him off-guard. So he just chuckles a little, slipping his hands into the pockets of his own jeans to keep them off of the man beside him.

That was not something that Sherlock expected his flatmate to say in the middle of the hallway, hence the slight hitch in his step as he keeps walking. And if he didn't know better, he'd swear he felt heat in his cheeks but there is no way that he could be blushing. Not even a little. Hoping that John doesn't notice, he just keeps walking, leading John down to one of the sitting rooms where the tree is set up with presents beneath it, dropping his bag off with the rest before he walks over to a bar, making himself and John a cup of tea before wandering over to stand by one of the sofa's, some of the other family there already and talking amongst themselves.

Highly amused and feeling rather good about himself, John accepts the tea from Sherlock, smirking as he looks around, and glad to see that he's not underdressed, half of the others are in their pajamas still or something similar to what he and Sherlock are wearing, so he wonders if that is the reason Sherlock chose these particular clothes. Taking the tea when it's brought over, John takes a sip and then he chuckles a little.

"You know this means you have no excuse not to make tea, now, Sherlock."


	17. Chapter 17

A small snort from the detective at that, as if John suggesting he make tea is completely ridiculous. "Preparing it is much different than making it. All I did was put it from the pot into that mug and add the proper amount of sugar." The detective points out as he looks at the doctor, though he's pleased that he seems to have gotten it right.

The doctor smirks a little, and nudges Sherlock a little. "It's alright. I've gotten used to making tea for two now. I don't mind, though you could say 'thank you' once in a while." he muses with a slight smirk as he looks at the taller man, watching as more people enter the room. It seems that Ford and James are the last stragglers, and John hides a slight grin behind his cup as he takes another small sip. "I'm proud of you, Sherlock. You've been here almost 24 hours, and you haven't started pouting about being bored or anything like that. Come to think of it, it's been a few days since you threw any sort of tantrum about being bored." He says as he looks at Sherlock curiously.

"Why would I be bored?" Sherlock asks in surprise. "First I was occupied with how Christmas might go. And I was preoccupied with your behavior. You've been different lately an I couldn't figure it out, I didn't know that it was because you had unconscious feelings for me." He says thoughtfully as he looks at the older man, reaching out to put an arm around him, leaning down to kiss the side of his head lightly. Surely the doctor can't object to something so simple. "As for today and yesterday, don't be an idiot, John. Of course I haven't been bored. You've occupied me quite thoroughly since we arrived, if you recall. Honestly, are you finally becoming senile in your old age?" He asks with a skeptically raised eyebrow.

John can't help it, he laughs when Sherlock calls him an idiot. "Ah, there's my detective, I was worried he might have got lost under sentiment somewhere." he says with a happy smile up at the other man.

Rolling his eyes a little, Sherlock gives John a look that tells the doctor just how much of an idiot the younger man thinks he is. "Really, John. Do try and use your brain. I refuse to believe caring about someone can change your entire personality. I've cared about you for years, yet you detected no change in my behavior for the last eight months." He reminds the doctor, shaking his head and sliding his hands into his jeans pockets.

Anything further is cut off by Victoria Holmes standing up, commanding the attention of the entire room. Her chair is closest to the fireplace, in a high-backed chair that somewhat resembles a throne, John thinks. Mycroft isn't standing too far from her, but closer to where John and Sherlock are, as well as where Q sits in another chair with James sitting on the arm, somewhat resembling a loyal guard dog. Especially with the way that Q seems so relaxed yet poised, with the same aristocratic air - albeit a little toned down - that Victoria displays.

"Merry Christmas to you all, and thank you all for making it here." 'Mummy' speaks calmly, folding her hands in front of her, smiling a little. There are some others that are not immediate family, a few close relatives as well as the three brothers and their significant others. "As you all know, this Christmas is special to me, because I have all three of my sons here for the first time in a very long time." She says as she looks at her sons, seeming to be in a better mood than the night before because she is smiling fondly at them, loosely arranged as they are on one side of the room.

"Before we start with the presents, I am going to ask for the only present I want from my sons. I want a performance, a Christmas song or two." Victoria says as she motions toward the piano. And by 'or two' she means two songs, minimum of course. "Surely you can give your mother that, boys?" She challenges with an arch of an eyebrow.

John blinks a few times as he looks at Victoria, then he looks up at Sherlock with a curious look. he knew that the man was musical, that much is obvious since he plays the violin so well, but he had no idea that the man could sing. The thought of Sherlock being able to sing sends a small shiver down John's spine as he imagines what that smooth baritone would sound turned toward song.

Making a small sound of displeasure in the back of his throat, Sherlock sighs a little, clasping his hands behind his back loosely before he looks down at John, a small twitch of his lips as close to a smirk as he's going to get, before he glances over at his mother. To anyone else he would look impassive, but to the doctor beside him, he can tell that Sherlock is less than pleased, having had to read the minute facial expressions for so long, and also having gone over them so much the two years Sherlock was presumed dead that he's gotten quite good at it.

Curious now, John looks over to where James and Q are sitting, wondering what the younger Holmes thinks of this command performance. It doesn't seem that Q is any happier than Sherlock about it, though his face remains just as impassive as his older brother's. With a glance at James, he waits for the older man to get out of the way before he gets up and slowly moves over to the piano in the corner of the room. He opens the piano and then turns, waiting for Sherlock and Mycroft to join him. Mycroft does so almost immediately, having no problems obeying Mummy's commands.

Sherlock lets out a silent sigh, looking at John for a moment before he moves over to join his brothers, starting to speak to them quietly about which songs they should perform.

John remains standing where he was off to the side, looking up as James moves from his spot by the chair to approach him. Looking at the slightly taller man - and really, why is everyone taller than him? - John takes a deep breath. "Did you know they could sing?" he asks quietly, sipping his tea as he looks back at his detective.

James shakes his head a little. "Nope. I didn't know Ford could play the piano either, but then we haven't really gotten around to discussing things like that. He's very close-lipped about his personal life when he's at work. I haven't really spent a lot of time with him outside of it." He says softly, sipping at his own coffee, his thoughts apparently on the youngest Holmes.

Considering that comment as he glances over at the man beside him, John wonders if this isn't the first time they've gotten to spend time out of work together. If that's the case, then they certainly were moving rather swiftly, but then again he has no idea what the other two are like at work. Finally, John merely nods. "I understand. I knew Sherlock was musical, he plays the violin. And he's bloody good, when he plays it properly, I love listening to him." He admits sheepishly, watching the three. Of course, Sherlock doesn't always play the violin properly, sometimes it sounds like he's killing a cat, other times it just sounds like odd tones when Sherlock plucks at it while he thinks. And of course John will never admit how much he longed for even that much when Sherlock was gone, how he took care of the violin, just in case, and how he laid on the couch sobbing, clinging to the case as if that alone could bring the detective back to him. Before it can get past a small pricking in the back of his eyes, John turns his attention back to the present. "But I had no idea he could sing." he muses, finishing his thought before he smirks as he gets an idea, pulling out his phone as he remembers something he found on the new model he had to get after throwing his last one at a wall angrily, glancing at James. "I'm not going to waste this opportunity though." he says as he loads up the app that will allow him to take a video. He's learned not to let things like this pass them by. This may never happen again, so just in case, he wants to have record of Sherlock singing.

The three seem to come to an agreement, and Q stretches his fingers for a few moments, glancing at James and John with a small sigh before he sits down at the piano, running a scale just to make sure the piano is in tune, though he knows it is, before he starts into 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen', and after a few moments the three start singing. Sherlock having the deepest tone, Q's the highest and Mycroft somewhere in between. But they all meld together into a seamless, beautiful tune, the piano merely an accent to their voices that carry throughout the room. Sherlock remains with his hands behind his back, standing to one side of Q as he starts with his part, a brief glance given to John, internally sighing as he figures out what the man is doing, and yet he can't help but smile faintly.

It would probably be comical if anyone paid attention to James and John's faces, because they probably both look rather surprised, and in John's case, rather flabbergasted. Despite the fact that his jaw is hanging open for a few moments, John has his camera up, taking a video of the three singing together. He listens to the smooth, velvety tones of Sherlock's voice, mentally shaking his head a little in awe. Is there anything that this brilliant, crazy man is not good at? A small smile is given as he continues to listen, tuning out some of the words to the song and just focusing on the voice as his mind drifts back over all the crazy adventures they've had, the frustrations, the injuries, the nights where Sherlock would play for John after he came downstairs after a nightmare. All the little things that John had learned to interpret as Sherlock actually caring about him, though to everyone else it would seem cold and unfeeling, there were moments of hidden warmth. And now he's seen that warmth turn into a flame. The cold facade is still there, and John knows it always will be, but moments like this, and like the last 24 hours, he gets to see another side of Sherlock, something he feels very privileged about.

Unfortunately it comes to an end as so many other things do, an James looks over at John in the lull during the applause. "I'd like to get a copy of that, if I could." He says with a nod toward John's phone.

"Yeah, of course. I'll email it to you if you tell me where, soon as the video is done." John says to James with a little smirk as he waits for the next song. He's not about to interrupt the video so he can take down the email address or phone number from James.

The wait isn't long, because the applause doesn't take long before the three brothers look at eachother again. Q gets ready to start in on another song while Sherlock clasps his hands behind his back. None of them need sheet music, and even though they haven't sung together for years, they can all remember their parts, their excellent memories aiding them in remembering words to songs they haven't sung for a long time. They start in on 'Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas', Q slowly turning his head a little to look at James as he sings, and likewise Sherlock turns his body and his head to look at John more as he sings, figuring that if John really wants a video of this so much, the least he can do is actually show his face to the camera.

James watches Q closely, taking a deep breath as he listens, finishing off his coffee and putting the mug aside before he slides his hands into his trouser pockets to continue watching. Surprisingly, the room is quiet as the three sing, couples leaning against eachother and smiling, arms around eachother or holding hands, even the children sitting nicely and listening, the male voices apparently soothing to them. It's all very idyllic for the moment though it's not going to last, everyone knows this. But for one moment it is the very spirit of Christmas.

When the song ends, there is a great deal of applause, Q standing to join his brothers as they all give a little bow to their audience. He makes sure that the piano is closed back up before he returns with Sherlock over to their significant others, Q picking up his tea from where it was sitting on the end table and finishing it off.

John turns off the video, emailing it to James after getting the information before he looks up when Sherlock joins him, reaching out to take his hand gently. "That was beautiful. I didn't know you could sing." he says as he looks at the taller man with a little smile.

Looking a little uncomfortable, Sherlock nods a little. "Thank you, John. Mummy insisted that we all learn an instrument and how to sing." he says simply with a little shrug, clearing his throat for a moment since he's not used to singing anymore. "If you show that video to anyone at Scotland Yard, I will be very cross with you." he says as he gives John a stern look.

"I won't, but I am going to show Mrs. Hudson." John says with a little shrug and a smirk, before he goes over to the nearby loveseat and sits down, happy when his detective settles down next to him.

"So you can sing and play piano.." James says with a little smirk, taking Q's hand gently in his and giving it a little squeeze.

"Apparently." Q says mysteriously with a slight smirk, but he returns the squeeze, before he goes back down to sit in his chair that is next to the loveseat that John and Sherlock have settled down on.

Once again James takes up his perch on the arm of the chair, not caring if anyone disapproves. It seems that Mummy Holmes needs a moment to compose herself, so John just leans back a little, stretching out his legs in front of him and crossing them at the ankle.

Looking at John curiously for a few moments, Sherlock smiles fondly and then shifts a little closer to John, moving his arm slowly to put it behind John's shoulders, knowing the doctor is startled by the movement but all he gets is a curious look. Still, he ignores the look as he puts his hand along the nape of John's neck, covering the bruise that he put there last night, and hiding the very edge of it that might be visible above his collar. With a light amount of pressure, he strokes along that spot gently, finger drawing a gentle circle along the outside of the bruise idly, quite pleased when he feels the small shiver from John.

"Sherlock.." John warns softly as he looks over at the detective, the touch sending a little thrill through him though because as Sherlock said, to anyone else it might seem a somewhat odd little caress, but they both know what's under the doctor's shirt, who put it there, and the memory of it raises goose bumps on John's skin. Still, this is not exactly the most appropriate place. But Sherlock doesn't remove his hand, he just stops the movement, instead resting his long fingers over that spot.

Finally finished blotting her eyes, Victoria smiles. "That was so beautiful, thank you." She says before she turns to the rest. "And now, on to the presents, which I'm sure is what everyone has been waiting for! Stephanie, why don't you and your boys pass them out, I'm sure you know who everyone is." She says before she sits back down in her chair which is separate and isolated from the rest, allowing her to view the entire room almost like a throne. Which is where Mycroft has taken up to standing, not too far away.

The gift-giving commences, as the presents are distributed, mostly to the younger cousins. James doesn't receive any presents except for a very expensive bottle of scotch from Mycroft, whereas Q, John and Sherlock seem to get quite a few presents.

John picks up one of the presents that's handed to him and he arches an eyebrow. "This is from Lestrade." he notes as he looks over at Sherlock questioningly.

"Mmm. Yes. Mycroft picked up our presents from Baker Street, it seems." Sherlock says with a little sigh, slightly annoyed that Mycroft once again invaded their home like that. Still, he's curious, leaning toward John a little. "That is a present for both of us?" he asks as he looks at the tag. "Open it." he urges, apparently eager for presents.

Laughing a little, John nods quietly and he smiles. "Alright, alright..." he says with a little smirk at the detective, opening the present quietly, and chuckling as he looks at the simple silver picture frame. The picture inside is of the two of them at some crime scene, standing close together, their bodies angled so they're not completely facing eachother but definitely turned toward eachother. They seem to be having some sort of conversation, John's arms across his chest, smiling up at Sherlock, who has his hands in the pockets of his long coat, his head turned toward the smaller doctor and apparently saying something, the way that his mouth is open. "Where did Lestrade even get this?" John asks in surprise as he stares at the picture.

Sherlock's eyebrows go up as he looks at the picture. "That's from our first case together." he says in surprise as he looks at John, "A Study In Pink, I believe you called it." he says before he glances it over. "From the look of it, it's from the end of the case, right after the cabbie was shot. Grainy picture, probably from a cellphone and enlarged." He deduces as he looks at the picture, them he slips a card out from underneath it, looking at it. "It seems it's a welcome back present, formally." He says before he shrugs a little, looking at the picture again.

A small smile is given from the doctor, and John nods quietly, brushing his thumb across the picture for a moment. "Well, I think it's a lovely Christmas present." he says with a nod of his head before he puts it aside. For a moment, he pauses, but since Sherlock doesn't make any move toward his own presents, John rolls his eyes and picks up another one, this a smaller one from Sherlock that makes him arch an eyebrow.

Of course, John gets no clues from the younger man, so he shakes his head, amused as he starts to open the small square package, looking at the CD case that is revealed. He looks at Sherlock questioningly, since it's homemade CD and has no label.

Looking a little embarrassed, Sherlock smiles at John. "It's a recording of myself, playing the violin." He says as he looks at the other man. "You seem to enjoy when I play certain songs over others, especially later at night. So I recorded them for you. I also have digital copies if you'd prefer to put them on your MP3 player." He says quietly as he looks at John uncertainly.

Very touched by this, John looks down at the CD, taking a deep breath and he smiles softly, blinking rapidly for a few moments. "Sherlock.. thank you. That's.. amazing.. Wonderful. It may be the most touching present I've ever gotten." he says quietly, reaching out to take Sherlock's hand to give it a squeeze.

Now feeling a bit more like a kid, John grins a little, putting the CD in his lap before he reaches out to pick up the other small present, tilting his head a little as he quickly opens it, opening the small white box to look inside. What's inside is a leather notebook, embossed in gold with 'Dr. J. H. Watson', and has some paper and a pen sleeve inside.

"I know you like to take notes during a case and your notebook is cracking on the spine. This one is also made specifically for left-handed people." Sherlock says as he motions to how it opens, taking a deep breath and holding it lightly as he waits to see how John likes this one. He actually put a lot of thought into these presents, having wanted to do something special for John, as a sort of penance.

"Bloody hell, Sherlock, you sure put a lot of thought into these.. this is perfect.. I'm not sure my presents will be as good.. between these and the jacket.."

Sherlock just smiles a little and he nods quietly, leaning into claim a quick kiss from his doctor, just a soft peck that is over in a second.

"I'm glad that I got something right for once."

* * *

**I had to split this up, it was getting way too long. I would have had it up earlier, but Fanfiction was broken!**

**So yeah. Presents! Christmas! Mummy! I hope everyone had/has a wonderful Christmas, and I hope you enjoy!**

**Comments/Reviews welcome!**


	18. Chapter 18

"For once? Hah! You do nothing BUT get stuff right, Sherlock." John scolds lightly but affectionately, shaking his head a little as he looks at the perfect gifts, before he takes a deep breath. "I only got you one other thing, besides what I gave you last night." he says as he picks up the box from him and holds it out toward the detective.

"Clearly I meant when it comes to emotional matters, John. Really." Sherlock says dryly, before he reaches out to take the package offered to him, shaking it lightly as he tries to figure out what it is, before he opens it and reveals what appears to be a shoebox. When he opens it he's surprised to find a leather case inside, which he pulls out and opens slowly. Inside it is a compact magnifying glass, tweezers, a lock pick set, Swiss army knife, a few evidence vials, as well as evidence bags that were clearly nicked from Scotland Yard, then folded neatly and tucked into a spot in the case. For a few moments, Sherlock stares at everything, before he looks up at John, understanding what it is of course, but not why.

John takes a slow, deep breath as he looks at the detective, biting his lip as he waits for a reaction. He smiles softly when all he gets is confusion. "I.. well.. you know that we gave away a lot of your stuff while you were.. gone.." he hesitates over the words, swallowing a little. "And I didn't know how much had made it back with you. This is everything that I could remember you using on a regular basis, and the case should fit in well into one of the pockets of your bloody coat." He says before he reaches up and rubs at the back of his head, scratching a little in a way that indicates his embarrassment. "I know, it's nothing compared to what you got me, I guess I should have thought a bit harder over what to get you, I just thought.. it would be.. you know, useful." The doctor explains, trailing off as he watches the other man.

A faint smile comes over Sherlock's face for a moment, drawing back those perfect cupid's bow lips, but not revealing any teeth, before he nods slowly. "No, John. It's.. it's good. It's.. perfect." He says with a nod, closing it and zipping up the small case again, looking at it as he runs the fingertips of one hand over it, wondering how long John slaved over this, wracking his brain to try and figure out everything he would need to put into it. He stares at the case for a few more moments before he looks up at the small army doctor. "You never cease to surprise me, John. Thank you." He says quietly, looking at the case, then laying it in his lap before he leans over and picks up two small boxes. "These are from Ford." he says as he hands John to him and starts to unwrap his own.

Looking rather relieved, John grins, glad that it turns out Sherlock liked it afterall. He takes the box from Sherlock and looks it over for a few moments before he opens it, eyebrows going up as he sees a cellphone box inside, opening it to look at the phone itself. He looks over to the man beside him to find that he has a cell phone as well.

It seems that Sherlock is waiting until Q is done kissing James before he holds up the cell phone. "Ford?" he asks as he holds up the cell phone questioningly and watches his brother, glancing at John's phone as well. The boxes and the branding on the phone cases say they're both Sony Ericsson's, though the models are different. However, Sherlock knows his brother and he knows there has to be more to the phones.

Q looks over at his brother, glad to see that John also opened phone which is based off the 'Pro' model and colored silver, whereas Sherlock's is black and is the Neo model. "It's a phone, Sherlock. Surely you can deduce that." He can't help himself, he's in a much better mood now and that makes him a little snarky, even if he means to be playful. At the unimpressed look that he gets from his older brother, Q smirks a little. "I've made modifications to both of the phones. They're virtually waterproof, I've added shock protection, and encryption so strong that not even Mycroft could break it without my help. It has GPS, but the only way that it could be tracked is through a website I've set up for both of you." He explains. "Information is in the boxes. Website is secure. Also, those phones have better picture capability, audio quality and speed than anything else on the market. The Ericsson case was the one most compatible for the designs I came up with." he explains with a little shrug, smiling a little as he looks at the two. "I admit, I've read your blog, John, and I know my brother. You both needed a phone that would last more than the what, six months to a year you were getting out of the other models?" He asks, arching an eyebrow.

John stares in shock at his phone. "Ford.. this is too much." he says with a small shake of his head. "Bloody hell, I didn't even know you before today." He says as he stares at the phone for a few moments, opening it and looking it over. It's just the type that he prefers, with a actual keyboard for texting, touch screen on the outside otherwise. He turns it on and fiddles with it for a few moments, comparing it to his existing phone. The expense and the time put into the phones still sort of leaves him shocked.

A small smirk comes from the consulting detective as he turns the phone over, examining it from every angle, having been waiting for it to turn on while Q was talking, and now he fiddles with it a little, nodding quietly as he notices how well it fits in his hands, that it's not too sensitive, it's probably the most perfect phone he's ever had. "Thank you, Ford." He says with a small nod of his head. "Our numbers?" he asks with an arch of an eyebrow. He doesn't really want to have to go through telling everyone a new number or manually transferring all of his contacts and such.

"I can transfer them over right now." Q says as he pulls his tablet out of a pocket that is apparently on the inside of his cardigan, along with a cable, holding out his hand toward them. "I'll need both the phones, if you please." he says, waiting to receive the pair before he starts to work transferring pictures, apps, address book, and everything else that may be on the phone, along with transferring the number itself from one to the other.

Looking a little surprised when Q produces his tablet, James leans back a little. "Where exactly were you hiding that?" he asks curiously, reaching out to pull out one side of Q's cardigan to peer at it, only to get his hand slapped away for his trouble. Though at least he can see the slight smirk on Q's lips as he works rapidly, completely focused on the task at hand. He smirks as he watches the younger man work, sitting back a little. "I think I might be jealous." he says thoughtfully. "I suppose it's one more thing I can use to guilt trip him if I need it." he notes with a little snicker.

Finishing one set of phones, Q hands them both to John, before he holds his hand out and takes the ones from Sherlock, starting to do the same with his, though he has more data on his phone so it's taking a little longer. Still, when he hears what James says, he smirks slightly, looking up at his face. "What makes you think I don't have something better for you back home?"

John coughs a little as he looks at the others, blushing a little in embarrassment since this was a little more than he ever wanted to hear from either one of Sherlock's brothers. Still, he tucks away his old phone, fixing everything to set it up correctly on his new phone, or at least, as correctly as he likes, including the lock screen, wallpaper and things like that.

Ignoring that suggestive comment, Sherlock takes his phones back when offered, and he nods quietly. "Thank you, Ford." he says honestly as he looks the phone over and then starts fiddling with it, cheekily sending John a text, partially to see if it works, and partially just to be his usual self.

Surprised when his phone pings, John looks at the new phone and unlocks the screen to look at the text alert. 'It's a text. -SH'. The doctor can't help but laugh and he shakes his head a little. "Cheeky bugger." he mutters to Sherlock.

A brief smirk from Sherlock is all the reply he gets, but a moment later another text appears on his phone.

Merry Christmas -SH

* * *

**Part two finished! Just a few more chapters and the boys will be heading back to Baker Street. I think I will be continuing that as a sequel to this one, rather than just rambling on forever. No idea what the title will be yet. TBA.**

**I hope you enjoyed it, I would have gotten it up sooner, but the site is being a butt for me today.**

**Reviews/comments welcome!**

**Merry Christmas!**


	19. Chapter 19

And that was enough to make John giggle. Yes, honest-to-god giggling from the former army doctor, like after he shot the cabbie. A small shake of his head, and John smirks at the child in a man's body beside him. "You are such an idiot." He says affectionately with a little snicker, shaking his head for a few moments, before he checks the time on his phone. "If we're going to get back home before it's too late, we need to get going." he says quietly as he looks around. "This wasn't so bad, afterall." he says softly with a little smile. "Come on.. let's say goodbye to Mycroft and your mother." he says as he stands, stretching a little before he adjusts the unfamiliar clothing of t-shirt and hoodie.

When the Sherlock doesn't immediately move, John sighs a little and shakes his head for a few moments before he reaches out and plucks the phone from Sherlock's hands. "You can have it back when we get into the car." he says simply when the detective gives him a shocked look, sliding the phone into the pocket of his jeans.

Finally, trying to look as casual about the entire thing as he can, Sherlock gets up from the couch, shooting John a somewhat petulant look but is quickly swept clean. He walks over toward his brother and mother, clasping his hands behind his back. "Mummy, Mycroft. Thank you for inviting us, but we have to be getting back home. We did originally promise to spend Christmas with Mrs. Hudson, our landlady, and we should not go back on that promise. And no doubt John wants to have a Christmas chat with his sister, however ill-advised it is." he notes as he glances at his flatmate.

Having followed him over, John shakes his head a little with a small smile. "He's right about Mrs. Hudson, I haven't decided about Harry yet." he points out as he looks at Sherlock. "Thank you for allowing me to join you for Christmas. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Holmes." The doctor says with a warm, pleasant tone, but it cools significantly as he looks at Mycroft. "Mycroft." He says flatly.

Mycroft sighs a little. "Dr. Watson. John. I do hope you'll enjoy the rest of your Christmas. You really need to work on this childish grudge you have against me however." he says quietly with a small sniff of disdain.

John stiffens a little at that. "Mycroft. If we were not in your mother's presence, I would lay you out on your arse." he says, before he takes a deep breath. "Forgive me, Mrs. Holmes. I'll leave you and Sherlock to say your goodbye's." he says before he turns back toward the couch stiffly, collecting the presents and then going to stand outside the door, leaning back against the wall and taking a deep breath.

Inside the room, Sherlock frowns a little as he looks at his older brother. "Christmas. Of all days. You could not keep your fat mouth shut about things you know are upsetting." He says with a shake of his head. "And you wonder why I avoid family gatherings." he says with frustration, upset because Mycroft keeps making his John angry, when he's in such a good mood. Wait. His John? When did he start that? After a moment of thought, he realizes he's been quite possessive these last few days. His doctor. His John. Interesting.

Victoria Holmes finally interrupts, holding her hand up to silence Mycroft imperiously. "I wish you two could just get along." She says with a long-suffering sigh. "Thank you for coming and bringing your wonderful doctor with you. I see how good he is for you. Do try not to mess it up." She says casually and coolly, her warm demeanor from her little speech earlier gone. "Go on, collect your doctor, I know you're eager to leave." She pauses for a few moments. "It was good to see you again, Sherlock." She says quietly.

Eager to get away from this place, Sherlock turns and heads out of the room, looking around before he spots John. "Don't be upset, John." he says quietly, slipping his arm around John's shoulders, fingers lightly caressing that bite mark they both know is beneath his shirt, making the doctor shudder a little.

"Lets just.. get our things and go home, Sherlock." John says as he leans into the taller man for a moment, before he waits for him to lead the way, following him upstairs and smiling a little as he thinks about going back to their flat, with its mess and experiments and slight smell of chemicals and stale smoke that he can't quite get to go away.

They both see Q and Bond coming down the hallway with their bags in hand, and Sherlock arches an eyebrow, not having seen them leave the study, so a little surprised to see how they slipped out.

"Leaving?" John asks with a little smirk. "You two look as eager to leave a we are." He admits with a sheepish smile, running a hand through his blonde-gray hair, before he offers his hand to Ford. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Ford. You should come 'round to Baker Street sometime, I'd love to get to know you and hear more about what Sherlock was like when he was younger." he says with a little smirk, glancing at his flatmate affectionately. He's good at putting up a good face, even if he's not entirely feeling it. Though Sherlock can tell, how the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes this time. "And it was nice to meet you as well, James. Make sure Ford looks after himself. If he's anything like Sherlock, he'll need it." he says with a little smirk, shaking both their hands firmly.

"Thank you." Q says as he looks at John. "It was nice to meet you as well. I've heard about you from Sherlock and Mycroft, so it's nice to meet you finally. I'm glad to see that my brother is finally happy." He says quietly with a nod of his head, but he looks unhappy about the 'take care of him' comment, huffing a bit. As if he's incapable of taking care of himself!

The huffing just seems to amuse both James and John for different reasons. It amuses John because the doctor thinks it's exactly how Sherlock gets when he thinks someone is insulting his ability to do anything. It amuses James because he just thinks Q is so adorable when he's acting like that. Still, Bond returns John's handshake with a little smile, leaning a little closer. "And it was nice to meet you, John. And you, Sherlock." he says the last as an afterthought. "We should get together for a drink sometime." he says with a slight smirk. Yeah, maybe he's flirting a little, but only to confirm a suspicion.

Before John can reply, Sherlock puts his hand over on that same spot on his shoulder again, squeezing lightly and making John wince. Sherlock can tell that the agent was flirting with John. Does he now have to deal with men as well as women flirting with his doctor? No, that's not going to be something he can tolerate, which is the reason he feels the need to remind John who his heart belongs to now.

"Sherlock!" The doctor scolds lightly, pushing his hand away, revealing a brief glimpse of what could be a bruise but it's too fast to find out for sure. He gives the detective an irritated glance, not sure what's going on, or what brought on that sudden gesture, but it does bloody hurt. At least when touched that hard, though up until now it was a rather pleasant ache.

James just smirks a little. "Merry Christmas, you two." he says before he urges Ford forward again, leaving them staring at each other.

Sherlock looks innocently at John before he tugs him along back to his room, trying, like always, to ignore what just happened, at least until he maybe figures things out for himself. He goes and starts packing up his bag, flitting around the room gathering things up.

Of course, John is not going to have any of that, and he moves over to grab Sherlock's wrists, basically manhandling him to pin him against the nearest wall, just to make sure that the detective can't escape. "What the bloody hell was that, Sherlock?" he demands, keeping the younger man's wrists pinned to the wall. He may be smaller in stature, but he's got the advantage of military training, and strength.

And the fact that a certain consulting detective finds this irrationally hot and doesn't really want to get away. So he just stares at John for a few moments, then looks away, avoiding eye contact for the moment. "He was flirting with you, John! I don't see how Ford could put up with something like that." Sherlock finally nearly growls. "I already have to deal with any woman with a brain practically throwing herself at you, now I have to deal with men as well?" He asks, frustrated, before he looks at John suspiciously. "Do you have some sort of special pheromone or something?" he grumbles in annoyance.

Realizing what's going on, John sighs a little, leaning forward and resting his forehead against Sherlock's chest for a moment, laughing softly. "You were jealous? Sounds like you're a lot jealous, actually.." he says with a little grin as he lifts his head to look at his adorable detective. Not good with emotions, John has to remember that about his love. "I don't have any special pheromones, Sherlock." He says with amusement as he looks at him. Keeping him pinned, he leans up a little, kissing those sexy lips for a few moments. "Maybe I'm the one who needs to mark you." he says with a soft chuckle of amusement. "Wouldn't that shock people.. the great Sherlock Holmes having a lover.. That would be rather amusing.." He admits with a little smirk as he looks up at the taller man.

Sherlock's breath catches slightly as he returns the kiss, then he sighs, "I could care less what people think, John. You of all people should know that. So what if they think, or know, that I have a lover, or a relationship?" he asks as he watches him. "You know people have assumed we're dating for years." he reminds as he watches him. "What makes you think they won't just continue along that train of thought?" He's using that bored tone again, though his sharp blue-green eyes are pinning John in place.

A small chuckle comes from the former army doctor, and he smirks a little as he looks at Sherlock. "Because of me, Sherlock. People like to tease me, I think, but none of them really thinks I would end up dating you." he notes, before he smirks. "Shall we make it an experiment?" He asks, kissing his love once more before brushing his lips over those sharp cheekbones and down to the jaw lightly before he starts to leave moist, open-mouth kisses on the taller man's neck. This is all new for him, but he's learning, and some things are the same no matter your gender.

Despite all of his objects, Sherlock takes a deep breath and tilts his head back, baring his neck for John, finding that he quite enjoys this side of the man. The soldier, the one to take charge, and one that is a bit BAMF as well. It's similar to the time when Sherlock realized the other had just shot the cabbie in order to protect his life. A thrill had gone through him then when he saw the older man standing there so calmly as if nothing had happened, and the same thrill goes through him now as he realizes John seems perfectly in control, almost clinical in his approach to Sherlock's neck. He can't help himself, he lets out a low groan which reverberates through his chest.

Another small smirk is given against Sherlock's neck, before John kisses his skin a few more times, considering the best spot, one that can be covered up by scarf or shirt if needed, but would still be a casual spot that a lover could easily leave a mark. Tit for tat, it's only fair afterall, he got himself marked by some strange turn of events, so it's about time he did the same. It's not as if he hasn't left his fair share of love bites in his time, consciously and unconsciously. He picks his spot and then starts to kiss, sucking softly and nibbling on the spot repeatedly until he's satisfied that there will be a rather impressive bruise there in a while. Finally, so things can't get too out of hand, he nuzzles the man's neck and sighs a little. "Mmm.. wonderful. I think I've been thinking about doing that for quite a while.." he murmurs before he leans up and finally releases the man's hands, sliding them up to either side of his face, pulling him down close and kissing him deeply, letting it linger, letting their tongues brush and twist together. "Blimey, Sherlock. I haven't felt like this since I was a teenager. What did you do to me?" he accuses softly.

A small moan comes from Sherlock at the attention his neck gets, and he slumps against the wall a little. When his hands are finally released, he grips John's hips, fingers sliding through his belt loops to hold him close as he responds to the kiss. Afterwards, he takes a few deep breaths to calm his pounding heart, shaking his head a little. "I didn't do anything, John, you've always had a higher than normal libido. Considering your atrocious luck with women, it's quite surprising actually." he says thoughtfully as he looks at the man in front of him. Reluctant to release him, he still sighs. "We should finish packing.." he admits reluctantly, ever the logical once, but he thinks it's quite a heroic feat to say something like that when he wants to do so many other things.

"Right. Yes. Of course." John says, gathering himself and nodding, resting his head briefly against Sherlock's shoulder, before he pushes himself back, smirking a little as he sees the growing bruise marring that otherwise porcelain skin feeling quite pleased with himself in the way only an alpha male could. Marking his territory, claiming something or someone as his. It's very primal, and that is a part of John he hasn't touched since he returned from Afghanistan. And yet, there it is, purring happily inside of him. With a little chuckle, he brushes his fingers along that purple bloom before he goes and packs his things up. His new notebook gets the pen from his old one, and it's put into his new jacket, everything else packed into his bag with army efficiency.

Sherlock finishes packing as well, placing a hand over his neck for a moment since he still feels a bit flustered, but then he finishes packing, just watching John and admiring him for a few moments before he turns at a knock at the door, walking over and opening it.

Charles is on the other side, eyes flickering to Sherlock's face, then his neck, then past him to John who smirks a little at the butler. Clearing his throat to hide the smirk on his own face, Charles takes a deep breath. "I've brought a car around for you, since I was informed you would be leaving soon. It was good to see you again, Master Sherlock. I'm glad you're taking better care of yourself." He hesitates, then glances at John. "Or at least that you've found someone to take good care of you." He says with a little smirk. "We'll take your bags down, sir." A young man emerges from somewhere off to Charles' left, looking like he might be new to this whole thing. However, Sherlock glances him up and down for a moment, nodding. "Thomas. Following in the family business, then?" he asks as he looks between the two.

The young man, Thomas, just nods a little. "Taking a year off, needed some money for University, dad got me the job." he says simply, then blinks. "Sir." He adds quickly to the end of that.

John has come up behind Sherlock, handing over their bags, and he looks at the young man curiously. "Nice to meet you, Thomas was it?" he asks as he holds his hand out toward the younger man.

Thomas clears his throat and nods, quickly shaking the doctor's hand. "Yes, sir. I'll just be taking these, then, sirs." he says before he picks up the overnight bags, leaving Charles to take the garment bags.

Sherlock smirks as he watches the younger man scurry away. "He's a good man, Charles. Well done." he says with a smile before he walks out, hands behind his back, and if he had his coat it would no doubt be flaring dramatically behind him.

"Come along, John!"

* * *

**We're nearing the end, folks! Probably one more chapter and that will finish up this fic. I can't believe I'm actually finishing two fics. Not sure I ever have finished a story. Ever. Don't worry though! I have lots of ideas for the sequel, which will pretty much pick up right where this one leaves off, wherever that will be. I'm not sure if I'm going to have sequel for the 00Q side to this.**

**Thank you to everyone who has favorited/followed this so far, you have no idea how happy it makes me to see people actually like this. Considering one of my others only had 300-400 views when I started writing this, and like, 2 favorites, the response was overwhelming. But in a good way! I love it!**

**Reviews/Comments welcome, and if there's anything you'd like to see in the sequel, please let me know, and I'll see what I can do. :)**


	20. Chapter 20 Final

After jogging a little to catch up to his flatmate turned boyfriend, John chuckles a little. "You know, I didn't learn nearly as much about you during this trip as I hoped." He muses thoughtfully as he smirks over at Sherlock. "Maybe later you'll tell me some more stories from your childhood." he says hopefully as he walks beside the taller man. He does fall behind a bit on the stairs, but suddenly he's ok with that as he remembers how well Sherlock's jeans fit him.

The jeans, good God, the jeans. John licks his lips a little as he admires Sherlock from behind, those long, denim-clad legs and a curvy behind. He smirks a little, thinking about that for a few moments. He's always been a leg man. It seems that every man has their preference. Legs, arse, breasts, face. John likes all of these things of course, but when he sees a woman who just has a stunning pair of legs, or a certain sway to her hips, he just can't help himself. Most women seem to appreciate this a little more than men staring at their breasts. They like to show off their legs, and there's so many little tantalizing glimpses they can give without being immodest.

So it really should be no surprise that when Dr. John H. Watson gets interested and involved with a man it's with one that has long legs, graceful movements, and a certain confident strut that the doctor is just now starting to appreciate to its fullest.

"John. Are you quite done staring at my back side?" Sherlock interrupts these thoughts at the bottom of the stairs, glancing back at the doctor who is a few stairs behind him. Though he sounds normal with his bored and slightly exasperated tone, there's a light in his eyes and a slight upturn to the corner of his lips that's barely detectable, that shows he's more amused than exasperated.

For a few long moments, the former army doctor considers whether or not he's done, for a few moments, then he tears his eyes up to Sherlock's face. "Mmm. I suppose so. You do have a rather fantastic one, now that I look at it. And I'm sure you've already deduced how I feel about a long pair of legs." He says with a little smirk. And, knowing where he is now, John walks with a confident stride toward the door where Charles, somehow miraculously getting there before them, has Sherlock's coat and scarf over his arm.

Not one to be outdone, Sherlock smirks in earnest this time, following the man and chuckling softly. "Yes, I have noticed your penchant for admiring legs." He sounds amused, getting his scarf and coat from Charles, thanking him before he follows John out. Before they can get off the little porch though, Sherlock grabs John by the shoulder with one hand. "Wait." he says quietly, and in a moment he's suddenly up quite close behind his doctor, trying to hide a smirk as he puts both hands on John's waist. "There's a matter we need to settle first.." He murmurs into the older man's ear, letting his voice drop to a lower tone, quite satisfied when he feels the other man shudder slightly.

Hearing the hitch in the other man's breathing, Sherlock smirks a little, sliding one hand down along his side toward his hip, pulling the edge of his jacket back so his hand can tease along the edge of his jeans, before Sherlock slowly slides his long fingers into John's pocket, only to-

- pull out his phone.

And of course once he has the phone in hand, Sherlock straightens, and is suddenly back to his normal self. "Thank you, John." He says before he moves forward and slips into the car.

A little dazed and slightly dizzy, John stands there for a few moments as he tries to figure out just what happened to him. He takes a few deep breaths and then shakes his head. "Bloody hell.." he mutters, running a hand through his short hair - he really needs a trim - before he starts to get a little annoyed. How dare Sherlock tease him like that, deliberately, knowing what it would do to John, only to get his phone back? Oh, that is so not going to happen, if the former soldier lets his detective get away with it this time, then he's going to get worse and probably get utterly insufferable.

A mop of dark hair followed by a certain man's upturned face appears at the car door, frowning at John. "Are you coming, or are you going to stand there all afternoon?" he asks, a little annoyed before he slips back again.

With renewed determination, John balls his hands into fists and steps forward, slipping stiffly into the car and waiting as it starts off, making sure the divider between passenger and driver is up, and then waiting for his genius boyfriend to get a clue.

It apparently doesn't take long for Sherlock to figure something is up, he finished going through the two or three messages he has, then goes to put his phone away when he glances at John. Back stiff, shoulders back, hands in fists on his thighs, staring straight ahead. John is upset. Why would John be upset? Sherlock tries to think of anything that he did wrong, or that might be deemed socially unacceptable enough to upset John in the last little while. And he comes up with nothing. He did a little flirting, he took his phone back.. Was John angry that the detective reclaimed his phone before they were in the car? Surely not, it was only two feet away.

In these types of cases, Sherlock knows that there's only one thing he can do, and that is to ask what he's done wrong. However, he now has different avenues open to him as to /how/ to ask. And so he devises a plan, slowly sliding over until he's sitting close to John, turning a little and sliding one arm around the older man's shoulders, hand dangling down his chest, while the other slips up under John's arm to press against the doctor's chest. He leans in, placing a soft kiss on John's neck just below the ear. "John?" He asks tentatively. "John.. what did I do wrong? Won't you tell me why you're mad?" he asks softly, placing another soft, loving, somewhat chaste kiss on John's neck.

And who in their right mind could stay all angry when faced with such a cuddly detective? Well, apparently John has more of an iron will than he thought, because it kind of just makes him more angry. "I don't like being manipulated, Sherlock." He manages to say, not melting into the man like he so badly wants to, keeping his head straight ahead, and even managing to pull away from Sherlock's kiss.

More than a little surprised, Sherlock looks like he's been slapped. "Manipulated?" He asks, leaning back a little in surprise as he looks at John. "I wasn't.. manipulating you, John..." He says in concern, starting to feeling a little panicky. He knew he might screw this up, and there was a good probability of it of course. He just figured that when it happened, he would know exactly what he did, and exactly why John was leaving him. But now he's just confused and a confused Sherlock is not a good thing.

"John.. please tell me what I did wrong, I won't do it again." Sherlock promises with desperation in his tone, his brilliant mind of course rushing forward to what he perceives as the inevitable conclusion, which is the end of this relationship before it begins, and the loss of John. Shifting a little, he refuses to let go of John, but now both his arms wrap around the older man's waist, as he buries his face in the back of his shoulder, breath hitching a little as he tries not to have a panic attack.

The sound in Sherlock's normally smooth voice, the shock and fear is what John responds to, the Doctor in him concerned since that is not something he is used to hearing in the younger man's voice. His anger abandoned for a moment, he puts his hands over Sherlock's arms. "Hey.." He says in a more soothing tone, though not all of the anger has drained from his body. He rubs one of Sherlock's arms gently. "What's going on in that brilliant mind of yours?" he asks gently, not able to see the younger man's face with how he's hiding. "I need you to look at me, Sherlock." he says in a firmer tone.

Squeezing his flatmate for a few moments and afraid it might be for the last time, Sherlock finally loosens his hold, and releases John extremely reluctantly, sitting back a little and putting a little space between them. He clasps his hands together in his lap, eyebrows drawn together a little in confusion as he stares at the floor, once again trying to figure out what might have caused John to be so angry. And he hasn't fully suppressed his panic attack either, breathing a little faster and he knows his heart is trying to pound out of his chest.

John watches his fragile detective for a few moments, before he turns toward him, lifting one hand to reach out and cup Sherlock's cheek and tilt his head up so he can look into those brilliant eyes. "Oh, Sherlock." He says with a little sigh. And really, how can he stay angry at the man when he's so clearly distressed? Frankly, the doctor could not stay mad at him in the first place, that's why even if he went out for some 'air', he always came back, no matter what it was Sherlock did. Leaning forward a little, he gives the man's lips a soft, chaste kiss before he watches him. "I'm not going anywhere, Sherlock." he says softly in a reassuring tone. "But we do need to talk about this." he says in a serious tone, watching him. "What you did earlier, to get your phone back from me." he says, watching as realization starts to dawn on that beautiful face. He keeps one hand on the other's face, his free hand reaching out to take one of Sherlock's in his.

"The things you did, very seductive and somewhat nice things, just to get your phone back.. were a Bit Not Good." John says as he watches the other man. "No, don't say anything yet." he says, putting his thumb over Sherlock's lips, stroking across softly for a moment. "Just listen." The doctor says in a firm tone, waiting until he understands, before he says, "If we were at home, in Baker Street, and you did those things, those very suggestive things, just because you wanted to, because you were feeling affectionate, or randy or whatever, that's fine. But you did it to manipulate me, so I wouldn't stop you from getting your phone back because I thought you were going to do something else. Do you understand the difference?" He uses a firm tone of voice, speaking slowly and deliberately as he looks into Sherlock's eyes.

And of course that brain, that brilliant, genius brain, takes everything in, turns it over and tries very hard to focus on John. When he finally turns the words around at the right angle, it clicks in Sherlock's brain, and he frowns a little, then drops his eyes, ashamed. "I didn't mean to make you feel manipulated, John." he finally says quietly. "I was attempting to be playful. I could not have predicted this reaction." he says with a little sigh, frustrated with himself.

Sighing a little, John shakes his head, before he laughs lightly and smiles. "You idiot." He says before he reaches out, slipping his arms around Sherlock and pulling the younger man close, folding his arms around him. "It's alright, Sherlock. This is normal, in relationships, believe it or not." he says quietly, stroking one hand through the detective's hair slowly, trying to soothe him, taking a few deep breaths. "It's ok. This is going to happen. We're still going to fight, just about different things. I will get angry. We talked about this. I will get angry, I will leave the flat, to get air or do the shopping, or whatever. But I will always come back, we will always talk about it, and we'll work it out." He reassures, leaning down to finally give the younger man a slow, lazy, reassuring kiss, his free hand sliding inside Sherlock's coat to slip around his body.

By degrees, the lean body that John has his arms around starts to relax. Sherlock responds to the kisses in kind, resting his forehead against John's briefly before he nestles it down on John's shoulder, nose brushing against the older man's neck, and he takes a slow, deep breath, allowing his arms to sneak around John's body. "It will be difficult for me, John. I... I'm afraid of losing you." He whispers softly, taking a deep breath. "Ever since the pool, I've been afraid of that." he whispers, placing another soft kiss on John's neck, clinging to him a little.

Miraculously, John has no more anger in him, only affection for the man in his arms. Shuffling around for a moment, he leans back against the door and pulls Sherlock close to him, making it a little more comfortable. "You won't lose me, Sherlock." He reassures, kissing the top of the man's head affectionately, his other hand rubbing the lean back slowly. "Come on, now. When we get back to Baker Street, everything will be better. You'll see.." he reassures quietly.

Nodding a little again, Sherlock smiles as they rearrange themselves so that he's laying a bit more on his doctor, appreciating the gesture. He places a few soft kisses on John's neck before he nuzzles down against him and relaxes. "I'm going to stay here for a little bit." he decides as he gets comfortable against the other man.

A small chuckle goes through John and he nods a little.

"Stay as long as you like, Sherlock. All the way back to Baker Street. I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

**Aaaaannnd that's it, folks! That is the end of my Christmas story. I have a ton of ideas for a sequel though, so don't worry! I will have something up tomorrow, and hopefully I will be able to update here and let you all know what my new story name is, etc. I seriously struggle with names, and apparently have a thing for alliteration if my one-shot titles are anything to go by.**

**Thank you all so, so much for all your favorites/follows! The response to this story has been so much more than I ever hoped for when I posted it. Thank you all so much!**

**As always, reviews/comments welcome!**


	21. After Story notes

**Ok, so normally I hate these 'after story' sort of notes, but I wanted my followers (my husband says it sounds like a cult. :D), to know that I have posted the first chapter of the sequel to this story, it's called Christmas Aftermath: Holmes at Home. I hope you all enjoy it as much as you enjoyed this one!**

**And oh my goodness, over 10,000 views! I'm doing a little happy dance now, even if you can't see it.**

** Thank you again for your wonderful response!**


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